Nothing To See Here
North Carolina: where it takes longer to become a barber than it does a police officer. And one of them gets a gun.
By Matt Stone
To cut hair for money in this state, you complete roughly 1,528 hours of classroom instruction and then serve an apprenticeship. North Carolina wants to be sure about you before it lets you near somebody with scissors.
To carry a gun, stop a car, order a citizen out of it, search the vehicle, put hands on the driver and take that person to jail, you complete Basic Law Enforcement Training. The Commission mandated course runs 868 hours, about twenty weeks. Until recently the requirement was 640.
That comparison usually gets made and then dropped, as though the point were about training. It isn't. The front end of this system was never the safeguard. The back end was, and on July 1 the back end was deleted.
Not weakened. Not reformed. Lifted out of a list of five statutes, one at a time, and killed.
What the statute did
For twenty six years, every traffic stop in North Carolina generated a record separate from any citation. G.S. 143B-903 required it: the alleged violation, whether a search followed, whether an arrest followed, whether property was seized, whether force was used.
The mechanics mattered as much as the categories. Every officer covered by the law was assigned an anonymous identification number by his own agency. That number was a public record. The link between the number and the officer's name was not, and could only be pried loose by court order in a case where it was actually at issue. Agencies had sixty days after the close of each month to submit. An agency that failed to submit became ineligible for any state law enforcement grant until it complied. Every December, the state published the list of officers who would be covered the following year.
That is not a paperwork requirement. That is an accountability architecture, with a privacy protection for officers built into it and a funding penalty behind it.
North Carolina was the first state in the country to build one. It ran continuously from January 2000, expanded two years later to every sheriff's office and nearly every municipal department.
Follow the bill
Here is the part that has not been reported, and it is available to anyone willing to open two PDFs.
Senate Bill 257 was filed in March 2025 as the 2025 Appropriations Act, sponsored by Senators Brent Jackson, Ralph Hise and Michael Lee, with Norman Sanderson as cosponsor. It passed the Senate in April, passed the House in May, and the Senate refused to concur on June 3. Conference committees were appointed in both chambers by June 5, 2025.
Then the record stops. The next public text is the ratified bill, a year later.
The Sixth Edition, dated May 22, 2025, is the last version anyone outside that room got to read. It contains a reorganization moving a cluster of criminal justice reporting statutes from the Department of Public Safety to the State Bureau of Investigation. Section 20.3(p) of that edition recodifies five statutes:
143B-901 becomes 143B-1208.15. 143B-902 becomes 143B-1208.16. 143B-903 becomes 143B-1208.17. 143B-904 becomes 143B-1208.18. 143B-905 becomes 143B-1208.19.
Section 20.3(s) then rewrites the traffic statistics statute in its new home, swapping "Department of Public Safety" for "State Bureau of Investigation" and leaving every operative requirement standing. The anonymous officer numbers. The sixty day submission window. The grant ineligibility penalty. The annual published list.
As of May 22, 2025, the General Assembly was not eliminating this requirement. It was carefully maintaining it and handing it to a new agency.
Now open the ratified bill and read the same table.
143B-901 becomes 143B-1208.15A. 143B-902 becomes 143B-1208.16. 143B-904 becomes 143B-1208.18. 143B-905 becomes 143B-1208.19.
One entry is gone.
143B-903 does not appear anywhere in the reorganization. It appears on page 448, under its own heading, in language nobody could mistake:
REPEAL LAW ENFORCEMENT TRAFFIC STATISTICS REPORT. Section 19.4(a). G.S. 143B-903 is repealed.
Every statute that sat beside it in that list survived and got a new number. That includes 143B-904, the requirement that agencies report on law enforcement use of deadly force, which is alive today at 143B-1208.18.
Somebody went into a working reorganization of five reporting statutes and removed exactly one. In conference. With no public draft, no committee vote, no amendment, and no name attached.
The repeal section carries no effective date of its own, so it falls under Section 45.8 at the end of the act: except as otherwise provided, the act becomes effective July 1, 2026. The General Assembly ratified the bill on July 2 and the Governor signed it on July 7. The requirement was already gone by the time either of them touched it.
State Representative Marcia Morey, a Durham Democrat and former District Court judge, learned about it from a reporter. So did colleagues of Congresswoman Alma Adams, who was serving in the North Carolina House when the original law passed in 1999. Adams asked the only question that matters: "Why was it secretly done?"
What is actually left
Strip the database out and inventory what remains as a check on the most common encounter between an ordinary person and the armed power of the state.
Body worn and dash camera footage. Orange County Sheriff Charles Blackwood, who wanted the reporting requirement gone, points to exactly this, and he is right that it is a good tool. But that footage is not a public record in North Carolina, release generally requires a court order, and it can only answer a question about one stop, on one day, involving one person.
Internal affairs. A complaint process run by the agency being complained about, with no external reporting obligation attached.
Civil litigation. Available in theory to everyone, in practice to people who can retain counsel, and only after the harm has already happened.
Criminal court. Where a defendant can challenge a stop, one stop at a time.
Every one of those requires you to already know which stop to ask about.
The database was the only mechanism in the structure that held officers accountable to the public. It is how anyone learned that a deputy in one county spent two years searching mostly Hispanic drivers in a place where Hispanic residents were under ten percent of the population. It is how anyone learned that an officer in a western North Carolina city searched close to half of every driver he stopped, many times the state average. Civil rights attorney Ian Mance found both patterns in the numbers, put them in affidavits, and defendants saw charges dismissed or reduced.
Nobody filed a complaint that started those inquiries. The data started them. Mance's assessment of the repeal is that showing a court a pattern of disparate enforcement becomes close to impossible without the statistics.
Frank Baumgartner, the UNC Chapel Hill political scientist who built a 2018 book from this data, says eliminating it makes it hard to document whether a problem exists at all.
The blank slate
Twenty weeks of training to get the badge. After that, no obligation to record what you do with it, and no external mechanism that will notice a pattern unless someone already knows which pattern to look for.
An officer inclined to run a bad pattern in North Carolina has a structural advantage today that he did not have in June. Not because anyone granted permission. Because the one instrument that could have caught him without a tip is switched off, and every remaining instrument needs a tip it can no longer generate.
The same is true in reverse, and this is the cost to the good ones. A department that wants to prove it is clean has lost the ability to prove it. An officer accused of profiling could once point at his own distribution and walk. Footage answers what happened in one stop. Only data answers how often.