When police officers fail to uphold their duty of complete candor, the consequences do not end in the courtroom or the police precinct—they radiate outward into the streets, schools, homes, and hearts of the communities they serve. The bond between a community and its law enforcement agency is delicate, shaped not only by policies and patrols but by perception, lived experience, and truth. Once broken by dishonesty, that bond is difficult to repair. The public's trust in law enforcement does not hinge solely on crime rates or response times—it hinges on whether the people entrusted with enforcing the law are themselves trustworthy.
This chapter explores the critical relationship between truthfulness in law enforcement and community relations. It examines how dishonesty—whether through outright lies, omissions, or systemic concealment—erodes public trust, particularly in historically marginalized communities. It also explores how transparency, accountability, and meaningful community engagement can begin to restore that trust. In doing so, it emphasizes a central theme of this book: that truth is not only a courtroom value, but a community one—and without it, there can be no legitimacy.
Trust in policing is not built through a single act or policy. It is earned over time, through consistent actions that reflect honesty, fairness, and respect. Communities expect officers to do more than enforce the law—they expect them to embody its ideals. When those expectations are met, cooperation flourishes. When they are betrayed, mistrust takes root.
For many communities, the experience of policing is personal. It is shaped not by headlines or training manuals but by day-to-day interactions: a traffic stop, a call for help, an officer's words during a crisis. These moments matter. When officers treat people with dignity and tell the truth, they affirm the community’s faith in the justice system. When they lie—whether about the basis for a search, the content of a report, or the nature of a stop—they confirm suspicions that the system is not fair, but rigged.
Research in procedural justice has shown that people are more likely to comply with the law when they perceive the legal system as legitimate. Legitimacy, in turn, depends on four key components:
Voice: Do community members feel heard by law enforcement?
Neutrality: Are officers seen as applying the law fairly and without bias?
Respect: Are interactions marked by dignity and professionalism?
Trustworthiness: Do people believe that officers are sincere and truthful?
Of these four, truthfulness—complete candor—is the linchpin. Without it, the others collapse. A police officer who listens but lies, who acts polite but falsifies reports, who claims neutrality while concealing misconduct, cannot be seen as legitimate. And a system that tolerates such conduct is not one the community can believe in.
Communities of color—particularly Black, Latino, and Indigenous communities—have long histories of being over-policed and under-protected. From the slave patrols of the antebellum South to the discriminatory enforcement of Jim Crow laws, many communities have endured generations of law enforcement practices steeped in coercion, abuse, and deception.
These histories are not forgotten. They are passed down through stories, warnings, and lived experience. When officers lie today, they don’t just damage a single case—they reopen old wounds, reaffirming what many already believe: that the system was never built to protect them.
Modern data continues to show disproportionate stops, searches, arrests, and use of force against people of color. When these actions are justified with false narratives—claims of furtive movements, imaginary smells of marijuana, fabricated justifications for force—it confirms community fears.
High-profile cases like those of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Laquan McDonald have exposed not just individual tragedies but systemic dishonesty. Officers misrepresented facts. Departments delayed the release of video footage. Reports contradicted evidence. These acts were not anomalies—they were revelations of what happens when dishonesty is institutionalized.
For the communities affected, each revelation reinforces the belief that law enforcement cannot be trusted. This breeds disengagement, resistance, and trauma—not just among individuals, but entire neighborhoods.
When communities do not trust police, they stop cooperating. Witnesses are less likely to come forward. Victims are less likely to report crimes. Jurors become more skeptical of police testimony. This makes it harder for officers to solve cases, for prosecutors to secure convictions, and for victims to obtain justice.
In some neighborhoods, the relationship is so strained that community members actively discourage cooperation with police, seeing it as a betrayal. This is not a matter of “no snitching”—it is a rational response to repeated experiences of dishonesty and mistreatment.
Distrust also leads to conflict. Routine encounters—traffic stops, investigative detentions—can escalate quickly when people believe that officers are not acting in good faith. A community member who assumes they are being targeted unfairly may respond with frustration, defiance, or flight. Officers may interpret this as hostility, prompting a use-of-force response.
This cycle is dangerous for both parties. It erodes safety, strains resources, and deepens animosity. Worse, it often ends up being documented in official reports that mischaracterize the individual’s behavior, reinforcing the pattern of dishonesty.
As mentioned in Chapter 6, mistrust is not a short-term sentiment—it is a generational condition. Young people raised in communities where officers lie or cover up misconduct grow up with a deep skepticism of authority. They may avoid civic engagement, distrust teachers and social workers, and disengage from the political process.
This creates a self-perpetuating loop: the more disengaged the community, the less effective the services; the less effective the services, the more alienated the community becomes.
The most powerful tool in rebuilding community trust is honesty. This begins with individual officers but must extend to institutions. Departments must tell the truth—not only in court, but in public. This includes:
Accurate reporting of incidents—especially those involving use of force.
Prompt release of bodycam footage in high-stakes cases.
Public acknowledgment of mistakes, misconduct, and reforms.
Open communication with families and victims affected by police actions.
Transparency cannot be selective or strategic. It must be institutionalized and proactive. The community should never learn the truth from a leaked video or a civil lawsuit—it should come directly from those in power.
Community trust increases when people believe they have a role in shaping public safety. Civilian oversight bodies—especially those with real authority—can help restore credibility. These bodies should:
Review complaints and misconduct cases.
Audit use-of-force incidents and patterns.
Participate in hiring, promotion, and policy development.
Additionally, community members should be consulted on local enforcement priorities, such as traffic stops, school policing, and mental health responses. When people see their voices reflected in policy, trust grows.
Community policing is often touted as a solution to mistrust, but it only works when grounded in genuine relationships. Officers who are embedded in communities, attend local events, and work with residents—not just enforce against them—can rebuild credibility. But this model fails if officers lie, manipulate, or dismiss community concerns.
Community policing must be more than optics. It must include:
Consistent presence, not just visibility after crises.
Accountability for misconduct, even when community officers are involved.
Partnership with credible local leaders, including those critical of police.
Only when community policing is rooted in integrity can it serve its intended purpose: to humanize law enforcement and heal division.
Camden disbanded its existing police department in 2013 and rebuilt it with a focus on community engagement and procedural justice. Officers received training in de-escalation, cultural competency, and ethical conduct. The department adopted a use-of-force policy emphasizing the sanctity of life and transparency.
As a result, use-of-force incidents and complaints declined. Violent crime dropped. And community trust—while still fragile—improved significantly.
Camden shows that institutional change, paired with truth-centered policing, can yield real results.
Richmond’s department implemented community policing strategies that emphasized trust-building, youth engagement, and neighborhood-based patrols. Officers were trained in procedural justice and held to high standards of transparency.
After years of high crime and community animosity, the city saw reductions in homicides, increases in resident satisfaction, and improved relationships between officers and the public.
Communities do not expect perfection from their police. But they do expect honesty. They expect that when things go wrong, the truth will be told. They expect that officers will be held to the same standards as the rest of society. And they expect that law enforcement will serve not just the powerful, but the public.
Restoring trust requires more than reform—it requires truth. It means building systems that support candor, discipline dishonesty, and give the community a voice. It means telling the truth, even when it is uncomfortable. Especially when it is uncomfortable.
When officers tell the truth, they model integrity. When departments tell the truth, they build credibility. And when communities believe the truth is being told, they begin to hope again—for justice, for fairness, and for safety that includes everyone.