Submitted by Karen Fassuliotis
Chief Heavey is right about one thing: automated license plate readers, or ALPRs, can be a valuable law-enforcement tool. They can help locate stolen vehicles, find missing people and generate investigative leads. No serious discussion of the technology should ignore those benefits.
But that is not the same as saying that there are no legitimate privacy concerns, that existing safeguards are necessarily sufficient, or that the U.S. Constitution has already answered every question raised by modern ALPR systems. Chief Heavey’s OpEd makes several arguments that deserve closer scrutiny.
Seeing a Car Is Different From Seeing Where It Goes
First, he minimizes the fundamental difference between seeing a car in public and creating a searchable historical record of where that car has been.
An officer who happens to see my vehicle on Greenwich Avenue learns something about where I am at that moment. An ALPR system can create a digital record that can later be searched to determine where my vehicle was, when it was there, and potentially to reconstruct patterns of movement over time. Those are not necessarily equivalent forms of surveillance.
The Supreme Court’s decision in United States v. Knotts, which Chief Heavey cites, does not establish the sweeping proposition that anything visible in public can always be collected, retained and retrospectively searched without constitutional implications. The Supreme Court itself reserved questions concerning more extensive forms of surveillance.
Modern Technology Changes the Privacy Question
The Supreme Court subsequently recognized precisely that distinction. In Carpenter v. United States, 585 U.S. 296 (2018), the Court held that the government’s acquisition of historical cell-site location information constituted a Fourth Amendment search, emphasizing that modern technology can produce a detailed and comprehensive record of a person’s movements.
So, saying, as Chief Heavey does, that “no one out in public has a reasonable expectation of privacy” is simply too broad. The fact that individual observations occur in public does not automatically resolve the constitutional question when technology permits the government to aggregate, retain and search those observations over time.
The point is not that ALPRs are unconstitutional. It is that the Chief’s categorical statement goes too far. Modern technology can transform isolated public observations into a detailed historical record. The scale and nature of that information matter.
Second, the Chief’s comparison of an LPR to carrying a cell phone or using E-ZPass doesn’t hold up. Those are very different technologies, used for very different purposes. What matters here is not simply whether a device can identify or observe a vehicle, but whether it creates a searchable record of where that vehicle has been and allows that information to be examined later.
Trust Is Important. Oversight Is Better.
Third, Chief Heavey essentially asks residents to take the department’s word for it that the system is being used responsibly. He says the data is “stringently controlled,” that access is audited and that Greenwich has not experienced the abuses reported elsewhere.
Those are reassuring statements, but they are not a substitute for independent oversight, transparency and enforceable limits.
Even if we accept the Chief’s description of Greenwich’s current system—and residents should have the ability to independently verify those representations—the larger issue remains. The fact that an officer somewhere else was caught misusing a surveillance system does not prove that safeguards are unnecessary. Quite the opposite: those cases demonstrate why safeguards are necessary.
Good government should not depend solely on trusting the people currently in charge. Safeguards should remain in place when leadership changes, policies change or technology becomes more powerful.
If Safeguards Are Unnecessary, Why Did the Legislature Create Them?
Fourth, the Chief’s argument actually undercuts itself when he points to Connecticut’s new legislation. If ALPRs were inherently as innocuous as ordinary observation, why did the legislature enact specific restrictions governing their use, retention and dissemination?
Connecticut has already recognized that ALPR technology requires specific safeguards. Public Act 26-14, as subsequently amended, establishes limits on the retention and use of ALPR data, including a 21-day general retention period and restrictions on certain uses. The legislature did not treat ALPR data as equivalent to an officer simply seeing a vehicle on a public road. It created a separate legal framework governing how this technology and the information it generates may be used.
And this is not merely an academic concern. In August, Governor Lamont called for a statewide review of ALPR and safety-camera technology, citing legitimate concerns about what happens to the data, who has access to it, how it can be used and how long it can be retained. He urged municipalities to pause the installation of new equipment while the state develops additional guidance.
That should not be characterized as opposition to effective policing. It is an acknowledgment that powerful technology requires appropriate safeguards.
Good Policing Still Happens Face-to-Face
But there is another important point missing from the Chief’s examples of successful police work: not every successful intervention is the result of an LPR.
Consider the recent arrest at the high school involving an illegally operated e-bike. The individual was encountered because Greenwich police officers were physically present at the high school enforcing traffic laws. Had those officers not been there conducting ordinary, visible police work, that particular encounter—and the resulting arrest—likely would not have occurred.
Because the e-bike was not legally registered, an ALPR system could not have provided the type of plate-based alert the Chief describes.
That example illustrates something that can get lost in a discussion dominated by surveillance technology: effective policing is not synonymous with more cameras or more data. Police presence, community engagement, traffic enforcement, investigation and good old-fashioned observation remain essential tools.
Technology should supplement good police work, not become a substitute for it.
Legal Compliance Is Only the Beginning of the Conversation
Most importantly, compliance with the minimum requirements of state law does not end the public-policy discussion.
Greenwich can comply with Connecticut law and still decide that additional safeguards and greater transparency are appropriate for our community. As Greenwich residents, we should be able to ask some basic questions about how this technology is being used here:
- How many scans are generated each day by Greenwich’s LPR system?
- How many are associated with vehicles that are not on a hotlist?
- How often are historical data searched?
- Who is authorized to conduct those searches?
- What constitutes a legitimate investigative purpose?
- How many searches are conducted without an associated case number?
- How frequently are audits performed?
- Are audit results independently reviewed?
- How many requests for information come from other agencies?
- How often has Greenwich denied an outside agency’s request?
- What procedures exist for residents to challenge improper access or use?
- What happens to data associated with people who have committed no crime?
These are reasonable questions in a democracy. Asking them does not mean opposing the police or opposing effective crime-fighting.
And the fact that LPRs have helped solve crimes is an argument for using them responsibly—not an argument for eliminating scrutiny of how they are used.
Accountability Is Not Anti-Police
Greenwich residents can support effective policing while also expecting transparency, accountability and appropriate limits on surveillance. Trust in our police department should not mean that we stop asking questions; it should mean that we can ask those questions and receive clear, verifiable answers.
Finally, the Chief’s analogy to a kitchen knife or service pistol misses the central issue. The concern with ALPRs is not simply that a tool might be “misused.” It is that the architecture of the technology determines what information can be collected, retained, searched and shared in the first place.
Public Safety and Privacy Can Co-Exist
The proper debate, therefore, is not “LPRs: good or bad?” That is a false choice.
The better question is: What public-safety benefits do we gain from ALPRs and LPRs, and what limits should exist to ensure that a tool designed to find criminals does not gradually become a system for tracking everyone?
We should welcome technology that helps police find missing people and solve serious crimes.
We should also insist on transparency, meaningful oversight, strict retention limits, narrowly defined access rules and accountability when those rules are violated.
Chief Heavey’s strongest argument is that LPRs can make Greenwich safer. I agree that they can be a useful tool. But that does not mean residents should accept the proposition that collecting and retaining information about where our vehicles travel raises no legitimate privacy concerns.
The same principle applies to policing more broadly: technology should supplement good police work, not become a substitute for it. The high-school e-bike incident is a useful reminder that some of the most effective policing happens because officers are physically present, paying attention and enforcing the law—not because a database happens to flag a vehicle.
Greenwich should never have to choose between effective policing and meaningful privacy. We deserve both.
See also:
Heavey: LPRs, Flock Cameras, and What’s All the Noise About?
Aug 27, 2026