When a federal agent allegedly points a gun at a Minneapolis pastor's face and says, "Are you afraid now?" before making a joke about his race, we're looking at more than an isolated incident. We're staring down a fundamental problem: who watches the watchers?

Just days earlier, on January 7, 2026, ICE agent Jonathan Ross shot and killed Renee Nicole Good about a mile from where George Floyd died. Good was a 37-year-old mother of three, an award-winning poet, and a U.S. citizen working as a legal observer. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey didn't mince words, calling the federal government's account "bullshit" and saying the agent "recklessly used power that resulted in somebody dying."

These incidents highlight a glaring gap in American law enforcement: accountability mechanisms that actually work.

The Civilian Oversight Experiment

After George Floyd's murder in 2020, states and cities scrambled to respond. Hundreds of bills addressing police violence flooded legislatures. Many created civilian oversight boards. Rachel Moran, a University of St. Thomas law professor, called these boards "low-hanging fruit" that "seemed attainable" when communities demanded immediate reform.

The theory makes sense. Put civilians—regular people from the community—in charge of reviewing police conduct. Give the public a voice. Rebuild trust.

The reality? Far messier.

Most civilian boards can only make recommendations. They can't fire officers. They can't subpoena evidence. They can't enforce discipline. In Chicago, only 5-10% of complaints against police get sustained after civilian review. That's not deterrence. That's theater.

Even when boards do their job, it takes forever. The average investigation review drags on for two to three years. Justice delayed isn't just justice denied—it's justice forgotten.

When Oversight Backfires

Here's an uncomfortable truth: civilian oversight boards don't automatically make people trust police more. A 2024 survey of 2,503 Americans found that civilian review boards generally don't increase perceptions of police legitimacy.

Worse, when civilian boards reach different conclusions than police chiefs, public trust in both institutions drops. People start wondering: who's right? Who's covering up? The confusion breeds cynicism.

Research shows civilian boards aren't associated with changes in arrests, crime rates, use of force, officer-involved killings, or racial disparities in enforcement. That's a lot of effort for no measurable impact.

Despite these disappointing results, Americans still want civilian oversight. Large majorities—68% for moderate structures, 60% for robust ones—support the concept. The public understands that police shouldn't investigate themselves, even if the alternative hasn't worked yet.

The Pushback

Some states are moving in the opposite direction entirely. Florida recently banned civilian oversight agencies from investigating misconduct. Tallahassee's citizen board shut down in August 2024. Tennessee passed similar restrictions in 2023.

Jay McDonald, president of Ohio's Fraternal Order of Police, argues civilian boards are "often redundant" and could hurt police recruitment and retention. Translation: officers don't want outsiders second-guessing their split-second decisions.

That argument has merit in some cases. Policing involves genuine dangers and impossible choices. Officers deserve fair processes.

But "fair process" doesn't mean "no accountability." Police kill nearly 1,000 Americans annually. Black Americans die at nearly twice the rate of white Americans. Something isn't working.

The Federal Black Hole

The Minneapolis incidents expose an even bigger problem: federal law enforcement operates in a virtual accountability vacuum.

Local police departments, for all their issues, face some oversight. Mayors can fire chiefs. City councils control budgets. Civilian boards, however ineffective, at least exist.

Federal agents? Different universe.

Qualified immunity shields officers from civil rights lawsuits unless the right violated was "clearly established." The Supreme Court has made it virtually impossible to sue federal agents for constitutional violations through what's called the Bivens doctrine. Legal scholars describe these barriers in blunt terms: accountability doesn't exist.

ICE agents and other federal law enforcement operate with minimal external oversight compared to local departments. When something goes wrong, victims have few options. File a complaint with the same agency that employed the officer? Good luck.

Videos from the Minneapolis shooting showed ICE agents preventing a doctor from reaching Good after she was shot. They used pepper spray and tear gas against community witnesses. Rev. Callaghan described being detained in a black SUV for 30 minutes before an agent released him with a racist taunt.

Who investigates federal agents when they cross the line? Usually, other federal agents.

What Actually Works

Civilian oversight isn't inherently broken. It's often poorly designed and under-resourced.

Three main models exist: investigation-focused boards that conduct their own inquiries, review-focused boards that examine police investigations, and auditor/monitor boards that look at patterns and policies. Many cities use hybrids.

The most effective boards share certain traits. They have real power—subpoena authority, access to all records, ability to recommend discipline that actually happens. They have sufficient staff and budget. New Castle County, Delaware's review board still only accesses a handful of police disciplinary records because it lacks resources.

President Obama's Task Force on 21st Century Policing concluded in 2015 that "civilian oversight of law enforcement is important in order to strengthen trust with the community." But the task force emphasized that oversight needs teeth.

Prosecutors play a crucial role too. Fair and Just Prosecution recommends district attorneys proactively support civilian oversight rather than just prosecuting misconduct after the fact. Prevention beats punishment.

Effective oversight also requires transparency. When investigations take three years and recommendations get ignored, public trust evaporates. Fast, public, meaningful processes work better than slow, secret, toothless ones.

The Deeper Question

Civilian oversight addresses symptoms, not causes. The fundamental issue isn't just who reviews police conduct—it's the culture that makes review necessary so often.

Why do we need oversight? Because power corrupts. Because badges can become shields. Because some officers forget they serve the public, not rule it.

Good's family raised over $1.4 million within one day of creating a fundraiser. That outpouring wasn't just grief. It was rage. Exhaustion. A community saying "enough" for the thousandth time.

The Minneapolis incidents happened less than five years after George Floyd's murder. After all the protests, legislation, civilian boards, and promises, federal agents still operate with impunity a mile from where Floyd died.

Civilian oversight mechanisms aren't failing because they're bad ideas. They're failing because we've implemented weak versions while resisting the deeper reforms necessary. Real accountability requires real power—to investigate, to discipline, to change policies, to fire bad officers.

It also requires addressing qualified immunity, reforming use-of-force standards, and creating genuine consequences for federal agents who abuse authority.

When an agent can allegedly point a gun at a pastor's face as intimidation, then make a racist joke and walk away, we don't have an oversight problem. We have a power problem. Civilian boards can't fix that alone.

But they're still necessary. Police shouldn't investigate themselves. Federal agents shouldn't operate in darkness. Communities deserve voices in how they're policed.

The question isn't whether civilian oversight works. It's whether we're willing to give it the power, resources, and support to actually function. So far, we've mostly chosen comfortable-sounding reforms over uncomfortable real change.

Renee Nicole Good deserved better. So does every American who trusts that law enforcement serves justice, not just power.