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GUEST WORDS - When CompStat came to the LAPD from New York under Chief Bratton, it was sold as a tool for accountability. Track crime with data, hold commanders responsible, deploy resources smarter. On paper, it made sense. In practice, it became a system of blame, manipulation, and politics — one that hurt both the officers in the field and the people of Los Angeles.
I saw it firsthand. At CompStat meetings, command staff would berate divisional captains when crime numbers rose, but offered no solutions. No extra resources. No strategies. Just public humiliation in front of peers. That’s not leadership — that’s scapegoating. And it pushed captains to fear the numbers more than they feared crime itself.
Worse, I learned just how flexible those “numbers” could be. Crime reports rely on four-digit classification codes. By shifting which codes get included — or quietly excluded — the Department could make crime look better or worse. Too often, it was about subtracting crimes from the record, not adding accuracy to it.
Back in 2008, while assigned to the Real Time Analysis and Critical Response Division, I had citywide access to crime data through the CAD system. I knew we had lost an officer that February — Officer Randal Simmons, murdered in the line of duty — and I wanted to see if his death was reflected in the totals. When I reran the homicide numbers, the totals came out higher than what the Department was reporting. By filtering out certain categories — domestic violence, homeless victims, even officers killed in the line of duty — I could bring the totals down closer to the official count. Most shocking of all: Officer Simmons’s murder wasn’t reflected in those totals. I remember feeling angry, because his death was a murder/homicide and it should have been counted. That told me everything I needed to know about how easily truth could be erased.
The evidence was undeniable: crime classifications were inconsistent, and the system itself encouraged appearances over reality. What looked like accountability on paper translated into pressure on watch commanders and supervisors to “explain the numbers” instead of addressing what was actually happening on the street.
The tragedy is that it didn’t have to be this way. CompStat could have been a valuable tool. But when the system rewards hiding crime instead of confronting it, you create a culture that polishes its image while letting both officers and citizens down. Bratton was a politician — a politician who also had a hand in shaping the consent decree forced on the Los Angeles Police Department and embraced by city politicians. In my opinion, he was more focused on City Hall’s approval than on leading his officers. I didn’t always agree with Chief Parks, but at least he had backbone.
Today, the public still sees those CompStat numbers rolled out in press conferences as if they’re gospel. But the reality tells a different story: crime victims whose reports are buried, officers breaking their backs while leadership plays politics, and communities left in the dark about what’s really happening in their neighborhoods.
CompStat was supposed to bring accountability. Instead, it institutionalized manipulation. When a system can erase a fallen officer with the stroke of a code, it’s not accountability — it’s corruption. Until chiefs of police are insulated from political pressure with true civil service protections, the numbers will keep lying, and the public will keep paying the price.
The question isn’t whether crime is counted — it’s whether it’s counted honestly. And that’s the question every Angeleno should be asking.
Author’s Note: This article is part of a continuing series on LAPD and civic accountability. In “Why Veteran Cops Are Leaving the LAPD Early — and What Los Angeles Is Losing,” I explored the human cost of losing experienced officers. In “Why Los Angeles Needs to Revisit Civil Service Protections,” I argue that real reform requires insulating chiefs of police from political pressure. Together, these articles expose how Los Angeles has failed both its officers and its citizens — and what needs to change to restore integrity.
(Michael Barone is a retired LAPD Sergeant, Serial #33210, with 23 years of service. He writes about public safety, law enforcement history, and civic accountability.)
