Benn Jordan booked a hotel room for Flock Safety’s own conference. An employee from the company then called the hotel and canceled it in his name. The move wasn’t subtle. It was personal.
The company’s aggressive pushback reveals a pattern that goes far beyond one incident
Jordan, a Cobb County-based YouTuber and recording artist, had spent months methodically documenting serious flaws in Flock’s network of automated license plate readers and cameras. He didn’t break in with sophisticated tools. He found dozens of the company’s devices exposed on the open internet, protected by nothing more than default settings or misconfigurations. Anyone could watch live feeds. Anyone could pull up 30 days of stored video. And in some cases, anyone could delete footage entirely. WABE reported on how Jordan and collaborators accessed these systems across the country, turning what Flock marketed as secure law enforcement tools into something closer to a public broadcast.
His videos didn’t just embarrass the Atlanta-based firm. They triggered real-world consequences. Cities began to reconsider contracts. Residents packed council meetings to voice fears about constant tracking. Yet Flock continued to tout its transparency. It called itself a partner to communities. Then came the conference in Atlanta this month. Flock Forward brought police officers from around the country. Journalists with valid tickets found themselves barred from entry. And Jordan’s reservation? Gone with one call from a company representative.
“Flock routinely rewards themselves for being the most transparent company in the industry,” Jordan posted on X. “Last week they banned ticket-holding journalists from their Flock Forward event. Then, they quite literally had an employee contact a hotel on my behalf and cancel my room reservation.” The post, available via this archive, captured the moment many saw as proof of something deeper than sloppy security. It showed contempt.
But the hotel cancellation stands out. It crosses a line. Companies disagree with critics all the time. They issue statements. They sue. They lobby. They don’t typically impersonate individuals to sabotage travel plans. The act carries the unmistakable scent of retaliation. Of intimidation. And it lands with particular force because Flock’s entire business model depends on public trust. Police departments deploy its cameras on streets, in neighborhoods, along highways. Citizens drive past them every day, often without knowing. The data piles up. Billions of vehicle scans per month, according to reporting by PBS NewsHour.
Researchers who examined the hardware found even physical access yielded quick results. Push a button on the camera three times while using a common Android diagnostic tool, and the device opens up. Videos can be replaced. Deleted. Altered. Jordan demonstrated this capability in detail. The implications for evidence integrity in court cases are obvious. Yet Flock’s initial responses downplayed the discoveries. A spokesperson told outlets the issues affected only a small number of devices and were fixed quickly. No sensitive data was compromised, the company insisted.
That defense rang hollow as more reports surfaced. Jordan’s findings aligned with broader concerns raised by security experts. One video series titled the exposures “Netflix for stalkers.” Viewers could follow individuals’ routines. A woman walking the same trail at the same time each night. Commuters. Neighbors. The cameras don’t just read plates. Newer models capture video. And when those feeds leak, privacy evaporates.
Communities noticed. Dunwoody, Georgia, deferred renewal of its Flock contract after residents spoke out during public comment sessions. Other cities followed. By early August 2026, at least 23 jurisdictions had canceled, rejected or declined to renew deals, NewsNation reported. The count has climbed higher since. The Associated Press put the figure above 50 in mid-August coverage of Flock’s damage-control efforts. AP News detailed how the company announced changes including mandatory audit tools for unusual searches, default seven-day data retention, required case codes, and limits on searchable offense types. CEO Garrett Langley framed the moves as steps toward accountability.
Critics weren’t impressed. The American Civil Liberties Union and the Institute for Justice called the updates insufficient. “Window dressing,” one attorney labeled them. Real abuses had already occurred. Police officers in multiple departments used the system to stalk ex-partners, track friends or pursue personal grudges. Savannah officers were fired after Flock’s own audit tools revealed the misuse. A Washington Post investigation uncovered more than 50 instances of unauthorized tracking.
And the ethical bankruptcy runs deeper. Flock markets its technology as a public safety solution. Yet its actions toward those who question the product suggest a different priority. Protect the contracts. Silence the skeptics. Expand the network. The conference exclusion and hotel cancellation fit this pattern. So does the company’s demand for privacy while denying it to everyone else. Videos surfaced showing “No filming” signs at Flock facilities. Security guards refusing to be recorded. An ex-landlord reportedly told to keep the new location quiet. The hypocrisy is glaring.
Supporters point to solved cases. Vehicles recovered. Suspects identified. Flock’s tools have helped in investigations. No one disputes that. But effectiveness doesn’t erase the costs. Mass surveillance creates permanent records of ordinary movements. Data can be shared with federal agencies for immigration enforcement. Some departments have used it that way. Training AI models on this footage raises additional consent questions that Flock has not fully addressed.
Jordan’s work didn’t emerge in a vacuum. He built on earlier reporting and collaborated with other researchers. Their approach was transparent. They shared findings with the company and with government security contacts before going public. They bought cameras on the secondary market to test them. They treated the exercise as both technical challenge and public service. The response they received? Blocked access. Canceled reservations. Banned journalists.
This isn’t how a confident, ethical company behaves. It is how an organization that views scrutiny as a threat reacts. The lack of morals here feels complete. Flock positions itself as a community partner. Its executive once claimed the whole community is the customer. Yet when members of that community ask hard questions, the welcome mat disappears. The hotel stunt, in particular, feels like the act of a bully who knows the power imbalance but can’t resist flexing anyway.
Recent developments only sharpen the picture. As of mid-August, Flock was still rolling out its promised reforms while facing lawsuits, proposed legislation in Congress, and continued vandalism of its cameras in some areas. Bipartisan concern has grown. Lawmakers from both parties have introduced bills to restrict warrantless use of such systems. The backlash, once localized, has gone national.
Jordan continues to document what he finds. His audience has grown. Other outlets have picked up the story. The Guardian explored how some cities are shutting down their Flock networks entirely, citing “creepy surveillance” and fears of overreach. Residents described the constant feeling of being watched. Police officials sometimes admitted the technology made their jobs easier but acknowledged the trust issues it created.
The core problem remains. A company that collects vast amounts of location data on millions of Americans has shown it cannot tolerate criticism. It cannot maintain basic professional boundaries when challenged. It retaliates in petty, underhanded ways. That behavior doesn’t inspire confidence in its security practices, its data handling, or its corporate culture.
Police departments that still use Flock should take note. So should the cities considering new contracts. The tools may solve cases today. But the company behind them has demonstrated a willingness to prioritize self-protection over transparency, retaliation over dialogue, and market share over accountability. Those choices carry consequences. They erode public trust. They invite regulation. And they confirm, in the starkest terms, that ethics were never part of the business model.
One canceled hotel room won’t end Flock Safety. The larger pattern might. When a surveillance firm starts acting like it has something to hide, people tend to believe it.
Flock Safety’s Stunning Retaliation Against a Critic Exposes a Surveillance Giant Unmoored From Basic Decency first appeared on Web and IT News.