For much of the last year, security cameras sold by the tech firm Flock Safety have been blacked out, painted over, even wrapped in trash bags. Roundly criticized for ushering in high-tech surveillance, the company’s automated license plate readers (ALPRs) have not only been broken, but banned by cities across the nation.
However, at the same time the ALPR backlash has been brewing, a contributor to financial challenges for the company, Flock has seen a different part of its business literally take flight.
The company’s line of drones has become a key part of its current revenue and sales pitch. Flock founder and CEO Garrett Langley told the All-In Podcast in September that drone tech is the company’s “fastest-growing business unit right now.”
Founded in 2017, Flock is valued at $8.4 billion. Langley said drone tech is set to account for nearly half of its future revenue. At one point, the company was in negotiations to supply drones to police in Chula Vista, California, the San Diego suburb that has been on the forefront of drone policing.
While local law enforcement often praise the technology—the San Francisco police hold up the tech as a key aspect in a recent drop in the crime rate—the increasing deployments of drones are worrying civil rights advocates about the balance of privacy versus security.
“The public conversation hasn’t caught up to how much of a problem drones are at this point,” says Beryl Lipton, senior investigative researcher at the Electronic Freedom Foundation. “There are very high-resolution cameras that can see thousands of feet away and are designed to not be seen by the people on the street.”
The Rapid Rise of Police Drones
Flock’s growing push to sell aerial surveillance systems comes just as law enforcement vastly expands the use of what’s called drone-as-first-responder (DFR) programs.
Today, roughly 2,000 police departments and public safety agencies use this technology, which sends drones out to answer 911 calls and either clear the call (determine no additional police presence is necessary), help scout out the scene before other personnel arrive, or provide real-time insight during emergencies and standoffs.
The ease of use of the technology, combined with the larger workforce shortages in policing and an effort to avoid high-speed car chases, have been cited as reasons to invest in these eyes in the sky.
Flock has roughly 175 DFR customers across the country, but the growth opportunities are huge. According to retired Chief Charles L. Werner, founder of the Droneresponders industry group, there are about 125 new Federal Aviation Administration approvals for DFR programs every month.
The increasing technological capacity for cops to utilize cameras and drones flips the typical police process, says Brian Cox, head of police accountability at the San Francisco Public Defender’s Office. As he explains, instead of probable cause setting off police oversight—“you’re free from government oversight absent some extraordinary reason”—the increasing ability of police to surveil first, to “collect all the data and figure out what the problem is,” raises important constitutional questions about privacy.
Flock believes drones are an important tool for law enforcement, says Paris Lewbel, Flock public safety manager. Flock began expanding its drone offerings in 2024 when it acquired Aerodome.
The company has also prioritized the production of its new Alpha drone in the U.S., with plans to open a factory in Georgia by 2027. Building domestically allows the company to gain market share after the sale of Chinese drones such as DJI were banned by President Donald Trump in December 2025. Flock is also selling drone security to private companies and even prisons.
The firm’s technology—Alpha drones can travel at an industry-leading 60 mph and go 45 minutes between charges—gives Flock users more expansive abilities to track drivers and suspects, and to incorporate drone footage into its AI-powered analysis tools.
Like many other police tech companies, such as Axon, Flock wants to create an ecosystem of technology, becoming the go-to-vendor for law enforcement (and locking them into their proprietary systems, says Lipton).
“The technology really speaks for itself,” Lewbel tells Fast Company. “If you speak to law enforcement agencies that have started to deploy drones as a first responder, they’re seeing significant positive impact.”
A car with a license plate that appears on an ALPR hot list can activate rapid drone deployment. First, an ALPR camera clocks a license plate on a watch list and sends an alert; once the alert is triggered, a police officer needs to press a button to launch a drone, a safeguard designed to keep humans in the loop. Once airborne, the drone can track the vehicle.
Proponents point to safeguards that they argue limit the surveillance applications of this tech and focus it on active investigations or incidents. San Francisco District Attorney Brooke Jenkins claims the city’s fleet of nearly 100 drones gets used responsibly: only in the course of active investigations, and not as a blanket surveillance.
Lewbel says Flock drones can’t do ALPR scans automatically (though he does concede that an office looking at a drone camera could simply call in the license plate number). But others argue that not only can it do that, but it’s also trivial for an office to enter a plate number seen through a drone camera into an ALPR system.
San Francisco as a battleground
One of the main battlegrounds of public opinion around drones and policing is San Francisco, where the wider push to incorporate an array of high-tech policing tools has become a much bigger political issue, as evidence of improper data sharing with other agencies became public.
Drones, including Flock models, in addition to hundreds of stationary license plate cameras, came to the SFPD after the city passed Proposition E in 2024, which allowed the city to use technology and centralized command stations called real-time crime centers.
Before, the city was “still playing old-school cops and robbers,” says Jenkins, the San Francisco DA. Now, she says, these tools have helped dramatically improve response times, are able to chase suspects, and are being used as evidence in courtrooms.
The city is in the midst of rewriting its drone policies, with leaders finding themselves fiercely debating the efficacy and impact of this kind of policing. In early September, the San Francisco Police Commission was set to vote on the proposed drone policy, but the meeting was delayed until October 14.
Jenkins says a good part of the proposed reforms she supports would deal with reforming the way the system is used to prevent outside agency access, and to “function as a deterrent to those who might think of abusing it, and really build trust with the public that it’ll be used the right way.”
Others find the city’s latest drone policy proposal lacking. Detractors argue the proposal’s broad language would justify increased drone surveillance deployment. Lipton calls it a “really atrociously inadequate drone policy.”
San Francisco law enforcement holds itself up as a case study for the use of technology. Jenkins says drones and other high-tech tools have helped lead to a decrease in crime, though research shows the recent improvement may have more varied and complicated contributors.
(There isn’t currently an independent, peer-reviewed study on the impact of this tech in San Francisco, though a preliminary study of more than 200 police departments that wasn’t peer reviewed suggested the tech does have an impact on crime rates.)
According to SFPD stats, from March 2024 to August 4, 2026, DFR responded to 4,000 incidents, and assisted in more than 1,550 cases and more than 655 arrests of suspects, meaning drone footage was utilized during the investigation.
So far in 2026, DFR has been used with 40 search warrants and has been involved in 70-plus chases. The use of the technology for policing varied: A drone unit helped track suspect cars, which led to an arrest and conviction for pickpockets operating in Chinatown.
Drone footage has already been utilized in a number of court cases and prosecutions in San Francisco, though it can be tricky to fully track its use. In a case still in preliminary hearing, for example, drone evidence that helped track a defendant fleeing a scene did lead to a felony stop and arrest, but won’t be used in court, according to the DA’s office.
Do Drones Challenge the Definition of Privacy?
Drone policing raises other significant questions, including legal issues, that opponents say remain unanswered.
The recent San Francisco policy proposal would reduce evidence retention from 12 months to 30 days. Flock has set its default policy at retention for seven days. As Jenkins argues, “We don’t have the time, the staffing, nor the interest to collect data on law-abiding people. We just don’t, and so every ounce of access to this data is preserved for investigations of criminal activity. Period.”
But that preservation can be an issue, Cox and others note. Is the analysis drawn from that video—where cars went, what suspects met with other suspects, where people gathered—stored as data elsewhere, rendering the elimination of video a formality?
Flock’s Lewbel says after a video is destroyed, there’s still flight information, due to the audit log of flights that gets added to online public transparency portals operated by public safety agencies. And these drone videos often get classified as evidence, which agencies upload to their own digital evidence management systems, which get retained for much longer periods of time.
Others raise the issue of warrantless surveillance. Police departments often utilize the argument that drone surveillance happens in public, where a cop could be observing someone’s behavior, and there’s no expectation of privacy. Tapping a phone, which requires observing what happens in someone’s home and carries the expectation of privacy, requires a judge’s discretion and decision.
Jenkins makes the same argument in favor of police being able to utilize drones without a judge’s warrant. “You have a constitutional expectation of privacy when you talk on the phone,” she says. “Therefore, that is the reason that police and law enforcement have to go get a warrant before being allowed to violate that expectation of privacy. When you are in public, you do not. You don’t have the same entitlement, nor should you have the same expectation. The drone can only surveil what’s in public.”
She also argues you can see and hear the drones, making their presence obvious.
But there’s no way existing constitutional understanding would permit the constant possibility of video surveillance, Cox argues, both as it pertains to the right to privacy and the freedom of association. Could you ever meet someone without fear, knowing that interaction could be logged and tracked?
He considers these issues open questions that need to be decided in a court of law; federal courts have already begun to grapple with the way the technology’s retrospective and search features may come in conflict with the Fourth Amendment’s guarantees around unlawful search and seizure.
Jenkins argues that the introduction of drones for policing has been a new positive for the city, and has lived up to what the voters expected when they passed Proposition E. Technology, she says, has helped the department succeed, and taking it away or restricting it would be a mistake.
“We can’t go back to that place out of fear,” she says. “You do what it takes to put guardrails in. You don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater because it’s dirty, right? That’s not how it works, and that’s not in the best interests of our communities.”
Detractors argue it just entrenches more tech that will always be ripe for potential abuses. “This is the exact sort of mission creep that I think we kind of anticipated was going to happen,” says Lipton.