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Federal Law Enforcement Accountability: When Agents Create Disorder and Fear in American Cities
There's a fundamental problem with how we've come to accept law enforcement in America, and it crystallized for me while reading about what happened in Minneapolis. A man was killed by federal agents. The immediate question wasn't whether the killing was justified or proportional. Instead, the entire public conversation pivoted to whether the dead man had a gun, whether he moved the right way, whether he said the right things at the right moment.
This is backwards. And it's getting worse.
We've created a system where the people with badges, guns, and federal authority are allowed to operate with dramatically lower standards of behavior than the civilians they're supposed to serve. Untrained community members are expected to de-escalate situations. To remain perfectly calm. To anticipate the fears of armed officers and accommodate them. Meanwhile, the armed officers themselves face almost no consequences for creating the very chaos they're sent to manage.
The killing of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis in January 2025 exposes something ugly about how federal law enforcement operates in American cities. It's not just about one incident or one death. It's about a structural problem where the people with the least training and the lowest stakes are expected to maintain peace while the people with weapons, authority, and federal backing create disorder.
Let's talk about what actually happened, why it matters, and what it reveals about who we've allowed to police our cities.
The Alex Pretti Incident: What Happened and Why the Details Matter
On a Saturday morning in January 2025, federal Border Patrol agents encountered a man named Alex Pretti in Minneapolis. Within seconds, he was dead. Shot repeatedly while on his knees, surrounded by armed agents.
The immediate narrative from the Department of Homeland Security was clear: Pretti was armed and dangerous. He had a gun. He approached the agents aggressively. He posed a threat.
Then the videos came out.
Analysis from independent investigations suggested a different story. Pretti appeared to be holding a phone, not a gun. He was attempting to help another protester. When federal agents grabbed him by the legs and threw him to the ground, he ended up on his knees. Only after he was pinned did agents begin shouting that he had a gun.
The discrepancy matters because it reveals something systemic. Federal law enforcement agencies have a pattern of controlling the narrative after incidents. They report their version first. By the time evidence contradicts them, the story is already embedded in public consciousness.
But here's what's more important than whether Pretti was armed: even if he had been holding a gun, does that justify what happened? Minneapolis is an open-carry state. Minnesota law allows people to carry firearms with a permit. Pretti was a resident of a city experiencing serious violence. Many of his neighbors were arming themselves for protection.
Yet the entire conversation has been dominated by minutiae about his behavior in the final seconds of his life. Was his posture aggressive? Was his movement sudden? Did he reach for something? These questions only make sense if we've already accepted that law enforcement's use of force is justified by default, and civilians must prove they didn't deserve it.
We've inverted the standard of evidence. We're asking: Did the dead person do something to explain why they're dead? Instead of asking: Did law enforcement have justification for lethal force?
Studies show that rigorous de-escalation training can reduce use-of-force incidents by 30-50%, highlighting the potential benefits of holding law enforcement accountable.
The Broader Context: ICE Presence and Community Disruption
Alex Pretti wasn't killed in a vacuum. He was killed during a period of increased federal law enforcement activity in Minneapolis. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) had increased its operations in Minnesota. Border Patrol agents were conducting enforcement actions in the Twin Cities.
This is crucial context. The federal presence itself had become a source of conflict and anxiety. Immigrants and immigrant communities were living with heightened fear. Community members were witnessing enforcement actions that, by their nature, create trauma and disruption.
When federal agents show up in a neighborhood, they're not just conducting an operation. They're sending a message: We have authority here. We can take people. We can separate families. We can create fear.
The people living in these neighborhoods didn't sign up for this. They weren't given training on how to interact with federal agents. They weren't issued protective gear or taught de-escalation techniques. They weren't paid to manage federal agents' emotions or anxieties.
Yet when disorder erupts from the federal presence, the blame falls on the community. The question becomes: Why were residents so agitated? Why were they so resistant? Why didn't they remain calm?
This is the sick logic we've normalized. The armed agents create disorder. The unarmed residents are expected to absorb that disorder peacefully.
Estimated data shows that preemptive tactics by federal agents are perceived to have the highest negative impact on local communities, often leading to increased tension and disorder.
The Portland Parallel: A Pattern of Federal Escalation
This didn't start in Minneapolis. The pattern was established in Portland, Oregon, in July 2020.
The Department of Homeland Security sent over a hundred federal officers into Portland downtown. They weren't there to protect property or life. They were there to suppress protest. They arrived with tactical gear, chemical weapons, and a mandate to control the streets.
What followed was a masterclass in how to provoke the behavior you claim to be preventing. The federal agents launched tear gas into crowds. Not because the crowds had become violent. But preemptively, to suppress gathering itself.
The tear gas didn't disperse people calmly. It enraged them. It hurt them. It made them furious. And that fury was then presented as evidence that law enforcement was needed.
The media obsessed over whether Portland was experiencing "protests" or "riots." The distinction was drawn entirely based on the protesters' behavior. Nobody was asking a more important question: If federal agents are escalating confrontations, who's actually responsible for the disorder that results?
Protesters came wearing gas masks and carrying shields because they anticipated violence from the agents. They brought leaf blowers to blow tear gas back at the officers who threw it at them. They threw water bottles not out of intent to harm, but out of anger and, honestly, spite. They hated these agents and wanted to make that clear.
Was this nonviolent resistance? No. But neither was rubber bullets and pepper spray and chemical gas. The asymmetry was profound. Federal agents arrived expecting confrontation and equipped to escalate. Residents had no such preparation.
Yet the entire narrative centered on civilian behavior. Were the protesters being proportional? Were they following the "rules" of acceptable dissent? The federal agents' behavior was treated as a response to civilian action, not as an independent decision to deploy crowd-control weapons.
The same pattern is now unfolding in Minneapolis, with greater weight and brutality.
Why the Gun Question Is a Red Herring
Let's be direct: Whether Alex Pretti was holding a gun or a phone is almost irrelevant to the actual problem. I say "almost" because it matters for the specific narrative DHS constructed, which was demonstrably false. But the larger point is that even if Pretti had been armed, it doesn't explain what happened.
America's gun culture is complicated. Conservatives are passionate about Second Amendment rights. They talk about "responsible gun owners." They emphasize that most gun owners are law-abiding and peaceful. They argue against gun restrictions by pointing to the millions of Americans who carry firearms without incident.
But that same logic doesn't seem to apply when the gun is held by a civilian during a moment of federal law enforcement presence. Suddenly, the possession of a firearm becomes justification for lethal force. Suddenly, having a gun means an officer's fear is legitimate and their response is proportional.
Minnesota law is clear: You can open-carry a firearm with a permit. That's legal. That's constitutional. Alex Pretti lived in a city where people were being assaulted and killed by armed men in masks. Many residents were making the same calculation he apparently made: carrying a firearm for protection.
So why is the focus entirely on the gun and not on what triggered the need for federal agents to be there in the first place? Why are we parsing the minutiae of Pretti's behavior instead of asking why federal law enforcement felt comfortable killing an American citizen?
Federal agencies hold the majority of operational control, while local communities bear significant impact with minimal accountability. Estimated data.
The Double Standard: Expectations for Civilians vs. Expectations for Law Enforcement
Here's the core unfairness that nobody talks about enough: Civilians are expected to maintain dramatically higher standards of behavior than the law enforcement officers who are supposed to be controlling the situation.
When a civilian doesn't de-escalate perfectly, they're blamed for escalation. When a federal agent kills someone, we examine the victim's final movements to see if they "deserved" it.
Renee Good was in her car when ICE agents shot through the window. Her last recorded words to them were conciliatory: "That's fine, dude, I'm not mad at you." She was trying to calm them down. She was doing everything we expect civilians to do in these situations.
Did her restraint save her life? No. She was shot anyway. But the question being asked isn't whether the shooting was justified. It's whether she did enough to prevent it.
This is the mathematics of the system we've created. You're responsible for law enforcement's behavior toward you, but law enforcement isn't responsible for their own behavior. You must anticipate their fears. You must accommodate their anxieties. You must move the right way, speak the right way, remain calm enough that they feel safe.
And you must do all of this without training. Without protective gear. Without a salary. Without health insurance. Without a pension. Without a union. Without any of the structures that make it possible for federal agents to maintain these expectations for themselves.
It's a form of double taxation, really. Your taxes pay for federal agents to train, equip, and deploy. And then you're expected to work unpaid, without preparation, to manage their emotions during encounters that you didn't initiate.
The Training Gap: Preparation Disparity Between Law Enforcement and Civilians
Federal law enforcement agents receive training on how to approach potentially hostile situations. They're taught de-escalation techniques. They're trained on threat assessment. They're equipped with tools designed to minimize harm. They work with backup. They have protocols.
Civilians don't get any of this. When federal agents show up, community members are expected to respond appropriately with zero preparation. A person has maybe a few seconds to determine what's happening, assess whether the agents are legitimate, evaluate the threat level, and decide how to behave.
And if they get it wrong, they can be shot.
This gap is enormous, yet we never talk about it. We never discuss how unfair it is to expect untrained people to perform better in crisis situations than trained, equipped, armed, backed-up federal agents.
When law enforcement fails to de-escalate, we ask what the civilian did to escalate. We never ask what training or protocols the agents failed to follow.
Imagine if we applied the same standard elsewhere. A doctor makes a fatal mistake, and we ask what the patient did to deserve poor medical care. An airline pilot crashes a plane, and we examine the passengers' behavior to see if they provoked it.
It sounds absurd, because it is. But that's exactly what we do with law enforcement use of force.
Estimated data shows a decline in community stability over five years with increased federal enforcement. The negative feedback loop exacerbates instability.
Federal Jurisdiction and Accountability Gaps
One reason federal law enforcement operates with such latitude is jurisdictional complexity. When ICE or Border Patrol conducts an operation in a city, the local police aren't the ones controlling the situation. Local prosecutors might not have authority to press charges. Local judges might not have jurisdiction over the agents.
Federal agencies have created a space where they can operate with minimal accountability to local authority. They answer to federal prosecutors and federal judges. They follow federal protocols. They're trained by federal instructors. They work for federal agencies.
This creates a perverse incentive structure. Local communities experience the disruption and disorder, but have minimal ability to hold the federal actors accountable. Federal agencies face minimal consequence for how their operations affect neighborhoods.
It's a version of the classic principal-agent problem. The people making decisions (federal agents) are not the people bearing the costs (local communities). The people bearing the costs have minimal ability to influence the decision-makers.
And when something goes wrong, the locals are expected to fix it. The federal agents leave disorder in their wake, and the community is responsible for cleaning it up—literally and figuratively.
The Narrative Control Problem: DHS and Initial Reporting
DHS has a pattern of controlling the narrative after incidents involving federal law enforcement. They issue a statement. They present their version of events. They provide details that support their officers' actions.
It often takes days or weeks for contradictory evidence to emerge. By then, the initial narrative is already embedded. Many people never update their understanding when the evidence contradicts the official story.
In the Pretti case, DHS said he had a gun. They said he approached aggressively. They said he posed a threat. Then videos suggested he was holding a phone. That he was trying to help someone. That he was pinned before agents started shouting about a gun.
But DHS's narrative had already been published in hundreds of outlets. The correction reached far fewer people. The damage was done.
This is a pattern because it works. Federal agencies have learned that controlling the initial story is often enough. By the time truth emerges, the public has moved on to the next news cycle.
How do we fix this? Cameras help. Independent oversight helps. Slower initial reporting helps. But the fundamental problem is that we've allowed federal agencies to be both the actors in these situations and the narrators. They're telling their own story, and we're treating that story as authoritative until proven otherwise.
Transparency and community accountability are rated as the most important aspects for real accountability in federal law enforcement. Estimated data.
The Portland Blueprint: Preemptive Escalation as Tactical Doctrine
What happened in Portland wasn't random. It was a tactical choice. Federal agents didn't arrive in response to violence. They arrived and created the conditions that would provoke resistance. Then they pointed to that resistance as justification for their presence.
The tear gas was preemptive. The agents deployed it before violence occurred. When the crowds reacted to chemical weapons with anger, that anger was presented as evidence that the federal presence was necessary.
It's a classic escalation spiral, but with the federal government holding the match. Light the fire, point to the heat, demand authority to control it. Repeat.
And people accepted it. Because by the time the federal response happened, the streets did look chaotic. People were angry. Some property was damaged. The federal narrative—"We needed to be here to control this"—felt true, even though the federal presence itself had triggered the chaos.
This is what concerns me about Minneapolis. The federal presence is already creating anxiety. When disorders inevitably result from that anxiety, it will be cited as evidence that the federal presence was justified. A self-fulfilling prophecy.
Why Civilian De-escalation Isn't the Real Problem
We've gotten stuck on the question of whether civilians are behaving properly during encounters with law enforcement. We obsess over de-escalation by the people being confronted. We scrutinize their movements, their tone, their choices.
But the real problem isn't civilian behavior. It's law enforcement behavior. And specifically, it's that law enforcement has no incentive to de-escalate, because escalation doesn't cost them anything.
If a federal agent escalates a situation unnecessarily, what happens? Often, nothing. The agent goes back to the federal building. They write a report. Their supervisor reviews it. Unless something catastrophic occurred, the agent faces no real consequence.
Meanwhile, the civilian in that situation has to anticipate the agent's fears, manage their emotions, and hope they don't get hurt. The incentive structure is completely backwards.
What if we inverted it? What if federal agents faced real consequences for unnecessary escalation? What if they had to justify their use of force to someone with actual authority to punish them? What if there were no qualm about holding them to the same standards we hold civilians?
Then de-escalation would become an incentive. Agents would try to end situations peacefully, because escalation would be costly to them personally.
Estimated data shows local law enforcement has more accountability mechanisms compared to federal, highlighting the need for more independent oversight.
Minneapolis and the War of Attrition Strategy
There's a concerning pattern emerging in how federal law enforcement treats certain cities. Instead of discrete operations, they're establishing sustained presence. Instead of temporary deployments, they're setting up infrastructure. Instead of targeting specific threats, they're conducting broad enforcement that affects entire communities.
This looks like a war of attrition. The goal isn't to solve a specific problem. The goal is to maintain pressure. To keep communities off-balance. To make certain neighborhoods undesirable, so the federal government can reshape them according to their preferences.
Immigrant communities in Minneapolis are already scared. The federal presence amplifies that fear. The fear drives behaviors (people hiding, avoiding public spaces, not reporting crimes). Those behaviors are then pointed to as evidence that federal enforcement is needed.
The strategy is designed to work. Create fear. Point to the effects of fear as evidence the fear is justified. Increase enforcement. Repeat until the community is sufficiently subdued.
What's being asked of Minneapolis is impossible. The federal government is creating disorder and expecting the community to maintain peace. The federal government is causing trauma and expecting residents to remain calm. The federal government is creating fear and expecting people to cooperate.
The Systemic Accountability Problem: Who Watches the Watchers?
The phrase "quis custodiet ipsos custodes"—who watches the watchers?—is ancient because the problem it describes is ancient. Power without accountability corrupts. Law enforcement without oversight becomes oppressive.
We have created a system where federal law enforcement has enormous power and minimal oversight. They can arrest people. They can detain people. They can use force. And they can do all of this with minimal accountability to the people affected or the communities where they operate.
Local police at least have the possibility of local accountability. They can be sued in local courts. They can be fired by local authorities. They can be prosecuted by local prosecutors. The paths aren't perfect, but they exist.
Federal agents have fewer such pathways. They're insulated by federal jurisdiction. They're protected by federal prosecutors who, in many cases, rely on the same agencies to prosecute cases.
It's a closed loop. Federal agents answer to federal prosecutors who need federal agents. Neither has strong incentive to hold the other accountable.
What we need is external oversight. Independent bodies that can investigate federal law enforcement conduct. Prosecutors who don't depend on those agencies. Courts that take complaints seriously. Consequences that are real and felt by the individuals involved.
Without this, we have law enforcement that operates as they see fit, accountable to nobody.
The Philosophy Problem: What Is Law Enforcement For?
Underlying all of this is a fundamental question: What is law enforcement supposed to do?
If the answer is "maintain order and protect the community," then federal agents that create disorder and fear are failing at their job. If DHS is sending agents into Minneapolis and the result is that immigrants are more frightened and communities are less stable, then the federal presence isn't working.
But if the answer is "exert federal authority and maintain federal control over certain populations," then the current strategy makes perfect sense. Create fear. Disrupt community life. Demonstrate federal power. Remind people that federal authority is supreme.
I suspect the latter is closer to what's actually happening. Not explicitly, not as formal policy. But as a practical outcome of how federal law enforcement operates.
The question worth asking is: Do we want that? Do we want federal agencies in our cities whose primary effect is to create fear and disorder? Do we want untrained, unpaid community members tasked with maintaining peace while armed agents destabilize them?
Because that's the choice in front of us. Federal law enforcement as currently deployed creates these conditions. If we want something different, we have to make different choices about who polices our communities and how they operate.
The Real Cost: Trauma, Disruption, and Community Breakdown
When federal agents kill someone, the direct cost is obvious: one person dead. But the broader costs are harder to measure and often invisible in policy discussions.
Every enforcement action creates ripples. Family members are traumatized. Community trust erodes. People become less likely to report crimes or cooperate with any law enforcement. Schools become less stable because families are afraid. Businesses suffer because people avoid neighborhoods where federal enforcement is heavy.
These costs compound. Over time, communities where federal enforcement is intense become less safe, less economically viable, less stable. And that instability is then pointed to as evidence that federal enforcement is needed.
It's a negative feedback loop. Federal presence creates instability. Instability is cited as justification for federal presence. The problem gets worse, so federal presence increases. The cycle continues until the community is devastated.
This has happened before. We've seen it in other countries. We've seen federal authority used to terrorize communities into submission. And we're starting to see it in American cities.
The question is whether we recognize it in time to stop it.
Moving Forward: What Real Accountability Looks Like
If we want federal law enforcement to actually serve the public rather than dominate it, we need structural changes.
First, transparency. Every federal enforcement action should be documented. Every incident involving force should be reviewed. Every death should trigger an independent investigation. This information should be public and searchable.
Second, consequence. Officers who escalate unnecessarily should face discipline. Not firing necessarily, but real consequences. Agencies that operate in ways that destabilize communities should lose resources or authority. Escalation should be costly.
Third, local control. Communities should have authority over federal agencies operating in their jurisdictions. If an agency's presence is creating disorder, the community should have power to remove them.
Fourth, training. Federal agents should receive extensive de-escalation training. They should be trained on the communities they're operating in. They should understand the history of federal enforcement and its impacts. They should know that their job is to maintain peace, not to demonstrate power.
Fifth, accountability to those affected. Communities where federal enforcement occurs should have input into how that enforcement operates. They should have seats on oversight boards. Their complaints should be treated seriously.
Without these changes, we're just hoping federal agents will police themselves. And history suggests that doesn't work.
The Broader Conversation: What Happened to Law and Order?
There's an irony that should be uncomfortable for everyone. The people who demand law and order most loudly are often the ones responsible for law and disorder.
Federal law enforcement is supposed to uphold the law. But when federal agents kill citizens, arrest people illegally, escalate situations unnecessarily, and face no real consequence for their actions, they're breaking the law. They're creating disorder.
So what's the point? If law enforcement doesn't follow the law, if they operate without order or restraint, what makes them different from any other armed group operating in our cities?
The answer can't be "they have badges." Badges are only legitimate if they represent actual authority constrained by actual law. If the people with badges ignore the law, the badges become meaningless.
We need to have a serious conversation about what we actually want from federal law enforcement. Do we want agents who will escalate situations and create fear? Or do we want agents who will genuinely maintain peace and protect communities?
Because we can't have both. And right now, we're getting the first while pretending we're getting the second.
Conclusion: The Stakes of the Minneapolis Moment
What happens in Minneapolis matters beyond Minneapolis. It's a test case for how much power federal law enforcement can exercise in American cities. It's a statement about whose communities matter and whose don't. It's a question about whether federal authority is constrained by law or whether federal agents are their own law.
Alex Pretti is dead. Whether he had a gun is almost irrelevant. What matters is that he was killed by federal agents who faced minimal accountability, who operated in a context of escalating federal presence, who were given the power to make split-second decisions that can't be undone.
The broader question is whether we accept this. Whether we accept that federal agents can kill American citizens and the main subsequent question is whether the victims deserved it. Whether we accept that untrained community members must maintain perfect restraint while armed agents operate with minimal constraint. Whether we accept that federal authority operates outside the law.
If we do accept these things, we should be honest about what we're choosing. We're choosing a system where federal power is supreme. Where certain communities live under federal occupation. Where order is maintained through fear and violence rather than law and legitimacy.
If we don't accept these things, we need to make different choices. We need to demand accountability. We need to limit federal authority. We need to return power to communities. We need to remember that law enforcement only has legitimacy if it's actually following the law.
Minneapolis is at a crossroads. The city is being asked to choose. What it decides will ripple across the country.
I hope they choose wisely.
FAQ
What is the role of federal law enforcement in local communities?
Federal law enforcement agencies like ICE and Border Patrol have authority in specific areas: immigration enforcement, border security, and federal crimes. However, their operations in local communities often create tension because their jurisdiction sometimes conflicts with local policing priorities. The key issue is that federal agents can operate in cities without direct accountability to local authorities or communities, creating situations where federal actions can destabilize neighborhoods while local officials have limited power to constrain them.
How do preemptive escalation tactics by federal agents create the problems they're sent to solve?
When federal agents deploy chemical weapons, use aggressive tactics, or establish heavy enforcement presence before violence occurs, they often provoke the very resistance they claim to be preventing. This creates a self-fulfilling prophecy: federal presence creates anxiety and disorder, the resulting disorder is cited as evidence the federal presence was justified, and enforcement increases further. Communities caught in this cycle become increasingly destabilized, and the federal presence becomes the source of the problem, not the solution.
Why is civilian accountability for behavior during police encounters considered unfair?
Civilian accountability is unfair because civilians lack the training, preparation, resources, and authority that law enforcement possesses. Federal agents receive de-escalation training, protective gear, backup support, and formal protocols. Civilians are expected to respond appropriately to dangerous situations with zero preparation and minimal protection. Additionally, civilians bear the full consequences if they respond "incorrectly," while agents typically face minimal accountability even for excessive force.
What structural changes would improve federal law enforcement accountability?
Real accountability requires transparency (public documentation of all enforcement actions), consequences (discipline for unnecessary escalation), local control (communities having authority to remove harmful federal presence), training (extensive de-escalation and community understanding), and accountability to those affected (community input on federal operations). These changes would create incentives for agents to minimize harm and maximize legitimate peacekeeping rather than maximizing enforcement intensity.
How does jurisdictional complexity protect federal agents from accountability?
Federal agents answer primarily to federal prosecutors and federal courts, not local authorities. This means local prosecutors can't easily charge federal agents, local courts may lack jurisdiction, and local communities can't hold federal actors accountable through local legal systems. Additionally, federal prosecutors often work closely with federal agencies on other cases, creating conflicts of interest when they're asked to investigate those same agencies. This jurisdictional insulation leaves federal agents operating with minimal oversight.
What is the difference between law enforcement that maintains peace and law enforcement that demonstrates power?
Law enforcement that maintains peace focuses on preserving community safety, building trust, de-escalating conflicts, and operating transparently under law. Law enforcement that demonstrates power focuses on exerting authority, establishing control, ensuring compliance through fear, and operating with minimal external constraint. These approaches have opposite effects: peace-focused policing builds stable communities; power-focused policing creates destabilized communities living under occupation.
Why does the question of whether someone had a gun or phone matter so much in these discussions?
The specific object Pretti held matters legally for determining whether a threat existed. However, the broader problem is that focusing on this detail deflects from the real question: Why does law enforcement operate with such minimal accountability? Even if Pretti had a gun, that doesn't automatically justify lethal force if alternatives existed. The obsession with minutiae about the victim's behavior allows us to avoid asking harder questions about systemic failures in how federal law enforcement operates.
How do communities regain control over federal law enforcement operating in their areas?
Communities can demand local input on federal operations through city councils and legislative advocacy. They can document federal enforcement patterns and publicize them. They can support legal challenges to federal operations. They can demand that federal agents participate in community accountability boards. They can vote for local officials committed to limiting federal authority. However, the fundamental issue is that federal authority is designed to supersede local authority, so true community control requires changing federal law and policy, not just local action.
Key Takeaways
- Federal law enforcement agencies operate with minimal accountability to the communities they police, creating structural incentives for escalation rather than de-escalation
- Communities are expected to maintain higher standards of behavior than armed federal agents, despite lacking training, resources, and compensation
- The pattern of preemptive escalation by federal agents creates self-fulfilling prophecies where federal presence destabilizes communities, which is then cited as justification for more federal enforcement
- Jurisdictional complexity shields federal agents from local accountability mechanisms, making oversight and consequence minimal
- Real accountability requires structural changes including transparency, consequences for escalation, local control over federal operations, and training focused on de-escalation
