In 2021, journalist Cerise Castle’s “A Tradition Of Violence” went live. The 15-part investigative series became the first history of deputy gangs in the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department (L.A.S.D.), exposing their violence to the world. But it wasn’t just the world that was watching.
Castle sued the L.A.S.D., forcing them to release 800 emails containing damning details of surveillance and retaliation. They’d monitored her social media accounts, identified her as a “suspicious person” in a crime report, and sent her information to a unit that monitored license plates. Meanwhile, Castle received anonymous death threats, one reading: “...we going to kill you, your dog, and your girlfriend ... how dare you gay bitch.”
The L.A.S.D. even monitored accounts that reposted Castle’s work. They created a dossier on at least one such activist, containing his social security and relatives’ personal information. An L.A.S.D. car was spotted outside his house.
In this story, there are two definitions of safety. If journalists like Castle define safety as transparency and truthtelling, police define it as targeting anyone questioning their power. When cops say they “protect and serve,” they mean each other.
Castle is part of a long tradition of courageous Black journalists and activists risking surveillance and retaliation to expose and fight systemic injustice. She’s investigating if the L.A.S.D. is still keeping tabs on her. But even if they are, the truth is already out.