GoFundMe's Selective Enforcement: Inside the ICE Agent Legal Defense Fund Controversy [2025]

Introduction: The Hypocrisy That Shook a Crowdfunding Giant

Imagine you run a platform that's supposed to have clear, consistent rules. Now imagine you enforce those rules one way for some people and completely differently for others. That's exactly what happened when GoFundMe allowed a fundraiser for an ICE agent's legal defense to stay online, even though the platform had explicitly removed similar campaigns just years earlier.

On January 7, 2025, during an encounter with Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in Minneapolis, a civilian named Renee Nicole Good was fatally shot. Video footage showed Good in a dark red SUV reversing as masked agents approached. One agent, identified as Jonathan Ross, was captured on video circling the vehicle with his cell phone, then positioning himself almost directly in front of the idling SUV before firing as it moved past him. The shooting sparked immediate controversy and questions about how it was handled and by whom.

Within days, a fundraiser titled "ICE OFFICER Jonathan Ross" appeared on GoFundMe, requesting at least $550,000 to support potential legal expenses for Ross. The fundraiser was created by someone identified as Clyde Emmons of Mount Forest, Michigan. What makes this situation remarkable isn't just that the fundraiser existed, but that GoFundMe allowed it to remain active despite company rules explicitly prohibiting fundraisers connected to violent crimes and providing legal defense funds for those charged with serious crimes.

This isn't a minor oversight. GoFundMe has a documented history of removing precisely these kinds of campaigns. In 2015, the platform removed a Baltimore City Fraternal Order of Police fundraiser for officers charged in the death of Freddie Gray, citing violations of its rules against supporting legal defenses in violent cases. That same year, they removed a campaign for a South Carolina officer charged in the fatal shooting of Walter Scott. A GoFundMe spokeswoman stated at the time: "GoFundMe cannot be used to benefit those who are charged with serious violations of the law. The campaign clearly stated that the money raised would be used to assist the officers with their legal fees, which is a direct violation of GoFundMe's terms."

Yet somehow, the Ross fundraiser not only stayed online but had its description subtly altered after inquiries about its compliance. The removal of explicit language about legal defense while keeping carousel slides that clearly stated the fundraiser was for "Jonathan's legal defense" and "Officer Jonathan Ross's legal defense fund" raises serious questions about what GoFundMe's actual policies are and whether they apply uniformly.

This situation exposes a critical tension in how online platforms moderate content and enforce their own rules. When a major crowdfunding platform like GoFundMe appears to apply its policies selectively, it undermines the legitimacy of those policies and raises uncomfortable questions about power, politics, and the role these platforms play in shaping public discourse. The case also highlights a broader issue in how law enforcement incidents are handled, who gets to participate in investigations, and how public narratives are constructed around controversial police shootings.

TL; DR

• GoFundMe allowed a legal-defense fundraiser for ICE agent Jonathan Ross to remain online, directly violating its stated policy against campaigns supporting legal fees in violent crime cases
• The platform removed similar campaigns in 2015, including fundraisers for police officers charged in the deaths of Freddie Gray and Walter Scott, citing identical policy violations
• After inquiry, the fundraiser's description was altered to remove explicit references to legal defense, while carousel slides maintained the original stated purpose
• Renee Good, a 37-year-old mother of three, was fatally shot during the ICE encounter; video evidence contradicts official accounts of what happened
• State investigators were blocked from the crime scene, preventing Minnesota authorities from independently verifying facts or assessing whether charges should be pursued

Estimated data shows Meta leading in transparency with its oversight board, while GoFundMe lacks public accountability mechanisms.

The Shooting That Started It All: What Actually Happened

On a cold January morning in Minneapolis, an encounter between immigration enforcement agents and a civilian woman escalated into tragedy. Understanding what actually happened requires looking at the evidence available, what was claimed by officials, and why those accounts diverged so dramatically.

Renee Nicole Good was 37 years old, a mother of three children and the widow of a military veteran. On January 7, 2025, she was in her dark red SUV when she encountered ICE agents who were conducting some kind of enforcement action. What happened next was captured on video by bystanders. The footage shows Good in the vehicle as masked agents approach. One agent, identified in press reports as Jonathan Ross, is seen circling the vehicle with his cell phone raised. Then Ross positions himself almost directly in front of the idling SUV. As the vehicle moves forward, Ross fires. Good was fatally shot.

The video evidence is crucial because it contradicts the narrative offered by senior Trump administration officials. The Department of Homeland Security described Good as a "domestic terrorist" who "weaponized" her vehicle. President Donald Trump claimed she "ran him over." But video recorded by bystanders tells a different story. The vehicle appears to be moving slowly, and Ross had positioned himself deliberately in front of it after circling it. The shooting wasn't captured by government body cameras, since the agents apparently didn't have them activated or weren't wearing them.

This discrepancy between the video evidence and official statements is significant for multiple reasons. First, it means the public record about what happened depends on bystander recordings rather than official documentation. Second, it highlights how initial narratives can be shaped by those in power, regardless of what the actual evidence shows. Third, it raises questions about accountability and investigation.

Good's family has characterized her as someone who was not engaging in any criminal activity. A separate fundraiser launched for her widow and children had raised more than $1.5 million within days of the shooting, suggesting significant public sympathy for the family and recognition of the tragedy. The contrast between the fundraiser for Good's family and the one for Ross illustrates how public sentiment diverged sharply from official narratives.

Go Fund Me's Terms of Service: What the Rules Actually Say

GoFundMe's terms of service and community guidelines are relatively straightforward when it comes to fundraising for legal defense. The platform explicitly prohibits campaigns designed to help people charged with serious crimes pay for legal representation. This policy exists across multiple layers of the platform's guidance.

The stated reason for this policy is that GoFundMe wants to avoid becoming a tool for funding legal defense in serious criminal cases. The platform positions itself as a fundraising solution for everyday people facing extraordinary circumstances. Funeral expenses, medical bills, emergency housing, disaster recovery, education, creative projects—these are the intended use cases. Funding legal representation for those accused of violent crimes doesn't fit that mission.

When reviewing the specific language in GoFundMe's policies, the prohibition is clear and unambiguous. Campaigns cannot be used to benefit those charged with serious violations of the law. Campaigns cannot explicitly state that funds will be used for attorney fees and court costs related to violent crime charges. These aren't gray areas or matters of interpretation. They're straightforward prohibitions.

What makes this policy important is that it applies to everyone equally, in theory. It shouldn't matter whether the person charged is a wealthy executive, a police officer, an ICE agent, or anyone else. The rules are the rules. Yet the evidence suggests they haven't been applied uniformly.

The 2015 case involving the Baltimore police officers charged in Freddie Gray's death is instructive. Freddie Gray was a 25-year-old Black man who died from injuries sustained while in police custody in Baltimore. Six officers were charged in connection with his death. A fundraiser was created through GoFundMe to help those officers with legal expenses. GoFundMe removed the campaign, with a spokeswoman stating the platform "cannot be used to benefit those who are charged with serious violations of the law." The removal was swift and decisive.

Similarly, when a South Carolina officer was charged in the fatal shooting of Walter Scott, a civilian who was shot in the back while running away, GoFundMe removed the fundraiser for that officer's legal defense using the same rationale. These removals established a pattern of enforcement. They set a precedent. They created an expectation that GoFundMe would consistently enforce this policy.

Then came the Ross fundraiser, which contradicted that entire pattern.

Estimated data shows a decrease in the enforcement of GoFundMe's legal defense fundraising policy from 2015 to 2025, with fewer campaigns removed and more allowed.

The Ross Fundraiser: How It Evolved and Why the Details Matter

When the Jonathan Ross fundraiser first appeared on GoFundMe, it wasn't ambiguous about its purpose. The campaign clearly stated that "funds will go to help pay for any legal services this officer needs." The goal was explicitly tied to legal defense expenses related to the shooting. The fundraiser was created by Clyde Emmons, whose identity and relationship to Ross remained unclear.

Initially, the fundraiser operated much like any other legal defense fund that had been removed from the platform. It had a clear purpose, stated in straightforward language. It had a funding goal of at least $550,000. It had a narrative explaining why donations were needed. Everything was transparent about the intended use of the money.

But then something changed. After inquiries about whether the fundraiser violated GoFundMe's terms of service, the campaign description was modified. The explicit language about legal services was removed. Instead, the description was changed to the vague phrase "Funds will go to help him." The change happened between Sunday night and Monday morning, suggesting someone had been monitoring the campaign and the attention it was receiving.

What's particularly telling is what wasn't changed. The carousel slides at the top of the fundraising page, which typically contain the most prominent messaging, remained active and unmodified. Those slides continued to state "Give to cover Jonathan's legal defense" and "Officer Jonathan Ross's legal defense fund pays attorney fees and court costs." So while the main description was sanitized, the most visible part of the campaign still made the purpose explicit.

This selective modification raises several questions. Did GoFundMe advise the organizer to change the description to better conform with the platform's rules? If so, was that an acceptable compromise? If the carousel slides still clearly stated the purpose, how could removing one description resolve the policy violation? What was the point of the change if the stated purpose remained publicly visible?

GoFundMe declined to provide answers. The company did not respond to multiple follow-up requests for comment, including specific questions about whether it had advised the organizer to modify the campaign description. This silence is itself revealing. A company confident in its policy enforcement would explain its reasoning. A company uncertain about its decisions tends to stay quiet.

The fundraiser remained online, accepting donations, while similar campaigns from other people had been swiftly removed years earlier. No explanation for the inconsistency was offered. No policy revision was announced that would suggest GoFundMe had changed its approach to legal defense fundraising. The platform simply allowed the violation to stand.

Historical Precedent: The 2015 Cases That Established the Pattern

To understand why the Ross fundraiser is so problematic, you need to examine what GoFundMe did in similar situations just years earlier. The company didn't evolve gradually in its policy. It made decisive moves that established clear expectations.

In 2015, the Freddie Gray case dominated Baltimore headlines. Gray's death while in police custody sparked protests, outrage, and demands for accountability. Six officers were charged in connection with his death. Someone created a GoFundMe campaign to help those officers with their legal defense expenses. The fundraiser was titled "Freddie Gray is not a police officer" and was seeking to raise money for the officers' legal representation.

GoFundMe's response was immediate and unambiguous. The platform removed the campaign. A company spokeswoman explained the decision: "GoFundMe cannot be used to benefit those who are charged with serious violations of the law. The campaign clearly stated that the money raised would be used to assist the officers with their legal fees, which is a direct violation of GoFundMe's terms."

This wasn't a gray-area call or a debatable policy interpretation. GoFundMe saw a legal defense fundraiser for officers charged in a death and removed it based on an explicit policy prohibition. The company was willing to take a controversial action, knowing it would face criticism from police unions and law enforcement supporters, because the policy was clear.

That same year, another case came up. A South Carolina officer had been charged in the fatal shooting of Walter Scott, an unarmed Black man. Scott was shot in the back while running away from the officer. A fundraiser was created for the officer's legal defense. GoFundMe removed that campaign as well, citing the same policy violation.

These removals happened during a different political climate and under different leadership. But they established a precedent. They created institutional memory within the company about how legal defense fundraising should be handled. Anyone working at GoFundMe in 2025 would have been aware of these cases if they bothered to look at the company's history.

The contrast between how those campaigns were handled and how the Ross campaign was handled couldn't be starker. In 2015, GoFundMe acted decisively. In 2025, the company allowed the violation to persist. Either GoFundMe changed its policy and forgot to tell anyone, or the company applied its policy inconsistently. Neither explanation is reassuring.

The political context matters here too. In 2015, the cases involved police officers, and the victims were people of color. In 2025, the case involves a federal immigration enforcement officer, and the victim was a white woman. There's no evidence that GoFundMe made an explicit decision based on politics. But the perception of selective enforcement is damaging regardless of intent.

The Investigation That Went Nowhere: Why State Access Matters

When a shooting involves federal agents and a civilian, the question of who investigates becomes critical. The FBI took exclusive control of the investigation into Renee Good's death. That might sound like it guarantees thoroughness and impartiality, but it actually raises concerns about the completeness and independence of the investigation.

State investigators, including officials from the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, were effectively blocked from the crime scene. According to state officials, they no longer had access to crucial evidence, including Good's vehicle and witness interviews. This prevented Minnesota authorities from conducting their own independent investigation or even reviewing what the FBI had gathered.

Why does this matter for local accountability? When federal law enforcement investigates federal law enforcement, there's an inherent conflict of interest. The FBI has relationships with ICE agents. They work together, coordinate on operations, and share intelligence. Asking the FBI to investigate an ICE shooting is like asking someone to investigate their colleague. The incentive structures aren't aligned with finding the truth or holding officers accountable.

State prosecutors, by contrast, have no institutional relationship with immigration enforcement. They have an independent duty to the people of Minnesota and to Hennepin County, where the shooting occurred. They should have the authority to review what happened and make charging decisions. But without access to the evidence, they can't fulfill that responsibility.

Minnesota's Attorney General and Hennepin County Attorney both launched parallel efforts to collect evidence independently. But this was a workaround, not a replacement. Without access to the vehicle, without formal interviews with witnesses conducted under the authority of a state investigation, their parallel effort would be incomplete. They were essentially being kept out of their own jurisdiction's crime scene.

This matters legally because it affects whether charges can be brought. Local prosecutors claimed that without access to the FBI's case file, it may be impossible for the state to assess whether charges are warranted. This seems almost absurd—the shooting was well documented, occurred in Hennepin County, and involved a Minnesota resident. But federal control of evidence can create legal barriers to state prosecution.

It also matters from a democratic accountability perspective. Federal agencies are further removed from the communities they affect. State and local officials are closer to the people. When federal law enforcement operates in a state, state officials should have some voice in determining whether laws were broken. Cutting them out of the investigation undermines local democracy.

Estimated data shows that institutional bias and external pressure are significant factors in policy enforcement decisions, each accounting for about 25-30% of the influence.

Policy Enforcement at Scale: How Platforms Make Decisions

Understanding why GoFundMe might enforce its policies inconsistently requires examining how large platforms actually make moderation decisions. These companies don't have human beings reviewing every campaign personally. Instead, they use a mix of automated systems, human reviewers, and reported-content investigation.

When a campaign is flagged as potentially violating terms of service, it goes through a review process. Someone at the company examines it. They check the stated purpose, the description, the updates, and any comments. They compare it against the policy. They make a decision. But this process is subjective. Different reviewers might make different calls on ambiguous cases.

The Ross fundraiser likely wasn't automatically flagged by GoFundMe's systems. It probably came to the company's attention because of news coverage or external pressure. Once attention was drawn to it, someone at GoFundMe had to make a decision. That person, or a committee of people, decided to allow it to continue operating, even though it appeared to violate stated policy.

What factors might have influenced that decision? One possibility is institutional bias. Federal law enforcement might be viewed differently than local police. ICE agents might be granted different consideration than local officers. The platform might have been influenced by political considerations, though leadership would never admit this explicitly.

Another possibility is simply inconsistency. Maybe the person who reviewed the Ross fundraiser wasn't familiar with the 2015 precedents. Maybe they interpreted the policy differently. Maybe they thought the vague description change was sufficient to bring the campaign into compliance. Large organizations struggle with consistency, especially when their policies are enforced by different people at different times.

A third possibility is that GoFundMe made a deliberate policy change and didn't announce it. Maybe the company decided that legal defense fundraising is acceptable under certain circumstances. Maybe they changed their mind about the 2015 decisions and now think those were mistakes. They could have simply not explained this publicly, hoping no one would notice.

Regardless of which explanation is true, the appearance of selective enforcement is damaging. When platforms appear to enforce their policies inconsistently, it undermines trust in those policies. It suggests the policies are tools for getting the outcomes the company prefers, rather than neutral rules that apply equally to everyone.

For users of GoFundMe, this creates uncertainty. If you're thinking about launching a fundraiser, you don't know exactly which rules will be enforced. You don't know if similar campaigns will be treated the same way. You're essentially gambling on how the platform's moderation team will interpret your campaign.

The Role of Platform Policies in Shaping Narratives

When GoFundMe decides which fundraisers to allow, it's not just making technical decisions about platform rules. It's shaping the narrative around events. By allowing the Ross fundraiser to continue, the platform implicitly validated the idea that Ross deserves financial support for his legal defense. By removing similar fundraisers in the past, it had sent the opposite message.

Crowdfunding platforms have become central to how people respond to news and tragedy. When something happens, people don't just discuss it on social media or contact their representatives. They raise money. The fundraisers become part of the public record. They reflect and reinforce narratives about the event.

A family of a person killed by law enforcement raises money for funeral expenses, lost wages, and ongoing support. That fundraiser tells a story about the person who was killed, about the impact of what happened, about the need for support. Simultaneously, a fundraiser for the officer's legal defense tells a different story. It says the officer deserves resources to defend himself in court. It reflects an assumption that the officer has been unjustly accused.

When both fundraisers exist side by side on the same platform, they're not neutral expressions. They're shaped by platform policies. The fact that one was allowed and one was removed (or both were allowed, but under different standards) affects which narrative gains prominence and resources.

In this case, the fundraiser for Good's widow and family had raised $1.5 million, reflecting significant public sympathy and validation from the platform. The Ross fundraiser remained online but perhaps never reached the same level of attention or contributions, partly because of the controversy. But the existence of both fundraisers, and the platform's apparent acceptance of both, creates a kind of false equivalence. Both sides had their narrative validated by being hosted on the platform.

This matters because platforms claim to be neutral intermediaries. They say they're just providing infrastructure, not making editorial judgments. But every policy enforcement decision is an editorial judgment. By allowing the Ross fundraiser while removing similar campaigns in the past, GoFundMe made a statement about whose legal defense is worthy of platform support. That statement carries weight, especially when the person asking for resources is a federal agent with access to government resources.

Transparency and Public Accountability: Why GoFundMe Won't Explain

GoFundMe's silence on why it allowed the Ross fundraiser to continue is telling. The company had multiple opportunities to explain its decision and chose not to. This lack of transparency matters because it prevents public scrutiny of the decision-making process.

If GoFundMe had explained that it changed its policy and now permits legal defense fundraising in all cases, people could debate whether that's the right policy. If the company explained that it made an exception for federal law enforcement, people could examine whether that exception is justified. If it acknowledged that the decision was made in error and violated policy, the company could commit to preventing similar errors.

Instead, GoFundMe said nothing. The company declined to respond to inquiries about why the fundraiser remained online. It didn't explain its decision-making process. It didn't clarify its policy. It just let the situation fester.

This creates several problems. First, it leaves the impression that GoFundMe made a decision based on political considerations rather than principled policy enforcement. When a company won't explain itself, people fill in the blanks. And those blanks often get filled with suspicions about bias or corruption.

Second, it prevents accountability. If GoFundMe had explained its decision, critics could push back with evidence and arguments. The company could defend its reasoning or acknowledge mistakes. But silence doesn't invite response. It just creates frustration.

Third, it sets a precedent for future non-enforcement. If GoFundMe won't explain why it allowed the Ross fundraiser, what does that mean for other campaigns that appear to violate policy? Are there other exceptions that haven't been made public? Do certain types of organizations or causes get preferential treatment?

Platform transparency is a broader issue in tech policy. Large companies make decisions that affect millions of people, but they provide minimal explanation or accountability. They claim business reasons for secrecy. They claim legal risks in explaining decisions. They claim that transparency would help bad actors game their systems.

But there's a middle ground. Companies can be transparent about their policies and decision-making processes without revealing private user information or operational details. They can explain why specific decisions were made without compromising their ability to enforce policies fairly. GoFundMe chose not to do this. That choice itself reveals something about how the company prioritizes transparency.

The transparency of the Ross Fundraiser campaign description decreased after modifications, but some explicit messaging remained visible. Estimated data based on narrative.

The Broader Question: Who Deserves Platform Resources?

The Ross fundraiser raises a fundamental question that goes beyond GoFundMe's specific policies: Who should platforms allow to raise money for legal defense? If the answer is "no one," that's a consistent position. If the answer is "everyone," that's also consistent. But if the answer is "it depends on who you are," then platforms need to explain the criteria.

Arguments could be made that legal defense fundraising should be permissible in all cases. People charged with crimes deserve legal representation. If someone can't afford a lawyer, crowdfunding might be their only option. Preventing legal defense fundraising arguably undermines the right to adequate legal representation.

On the other hand, arguments could be made for restrictive policies. Raising money for someone accused of a serious crime before they've been convicted sends a message about presumed guilt or innocence. It could be seen as prejudging the case or creating an appearance of impropriety. Platforms might reasonably conclude that they don't want to become funding sources for legal battles, regardless of the merits.

GoFundMe chose a restrictive approach historically. The 2015 removals reflected that choice. But the Ross fundraiser contradicts that approach. So either the company changed its mind, or it's applying different standards to different people.

The question becomes: On what basis should different standards be applied? If federal law enforcement gets different treatment than local police, why? If ICE agents get different treatment than ordinary citizens, on what justification? If military or defense backgrounds matter, should that be stated explicitly so users understand the policy?

These questions matter because they go to the heart of whether platforms can be trusted to enforce their policies fairly. When enforcement is inconsistent, users lose faith in the process. They begin to wonder if the policy exists at all, or if everything depends on politics, power, and connections.

The Investigation into What Should Have Been a Clear Case

One of the frustrating aspects of the Ross situation is that it shouldn't have been complicated. The shooting was documented on video by bystanders. The shooter was identified. The victim was identified. A crime occurred. These are facts. But instead of a straightforward investigation leading to clear conclusions, we have ambiguity.

Video evidence shows Ross positioning himself in front of Good's vehicle and firing as it moved. This is inconsistent with the DHS narrative of a vehicle weaponized against an agent. Video doesn't show Good driving aggressively or attempting to run over anyone. It shows her in her vehicle, with agents approaching. It shows one agent taking a deliberate position in front of the vehicle. It shows shooting.

Yet the official narrative diverged sharply from the video. This kind of disconnect is damaging to public trust. When what people see with their own eyes contradicts what officials claim happened, people reasonably question whether officials are being truthful about other things too.

The FBI's exclusive investigation means the federal agency investigating its partner agency. This creates obvious conflicts of interest. Federal law enforcement agencies coordinate with each other. They depend on each other. Agents develop professional relationships. When the FBI investigates an ICE shooting, those relationships could influence the investigation, consciously or unconsciously.

Minnesota state investigators being blocked from the crime scene compounds this problem. They can't verify the FBI's work. They can't challenge conclusions with independent evidence. They can't even fully understand what happened because they're denied access to the evidence.

This isn't a new problem. Federal investigations into federal law enforcement have historically been controversial. Critics argue that federal agencies have an incentive to protect their own. Defenders argue that federal investigations are thorough and professional. But the appearance of impropriety is at minimum damaged when state officials are excluded from investigations in their own jurisdictions.

The Good family and the broader public deserve clarity. They deserve an investigation that's transparent and accountable. They deserve state officials with independent authority to examine the evidence and make decisions about whether laws were broken. When that doesn't happen, when federal control is absolute, people lose confidence in the outcome.

The Broader Implications: When Platforms Choose Sides

The Ross fundraiser situation has implications beyond GoFundMe's policies. It illustrates a broader problem with how large platforms shape public discourse. These companies make decisions about what content to host, how to amplify it, and who deserves resources. Those decisions have consequences.

When GoFundMe allows the Ross fundraiser while removing similar campaigns in the past, it's making a statement about whose defense is worthy. It's allocating platform resources and visibility. It's affecting the narrative. None of this is neutral.

Other platforms face similar issues. Twitter amplifies some voices and demotes others. YouTube recommends some content and buries other content. Meta's algorithm prioritizes certain posts. These platforms claim to be neutral, but their policies and enforcement decisions reflect choices about what the world should see.

In highly polarized times, those choices become more consequential. People pay attention to who platforms favor and who they marginalize. They draw conclusions about platform bias based on enforcement inconsistencies. They lose faith in platform neutrality.

GoFundMe could have prevented these problems by being consistent and transparent. The company could have allowed all legal defense fundraising and been clear about that policy. Or it could have continued removing all legal defense fundraising. Either way, consistency would have maintained the appearance of fairness.

Instead, GoFundMe chose inconsistency and silence. That combination creates the worst possible impression: selective enforcement based on unknown criteria.

GoFundMe removed fundraisers for legal defenses in the Freddie Gray and Walter Scott cases in 2015, but allowed a similar fundraiser for Jonathan Ross in 2025, highlighting inconsistent policy enforcement.

The Precedent Set: What This Means for Future Fundraisers

If GoFundMe allows the Ross fundraiser to continue, what does that mean for other legal defense fundraisers? Has the company effectively reversed its 2015 position and started permitting all legal defense fundraising? Or has it created an exception for federal law enforcement?

The answer to these questions matters because it affects what fundraisers will be attempted and allowed in the future. If legal defense fundraising is now permissible, people will create more of these campaigns. If it's only permissible for certain types of people or circumstances, that's a different precedent.

Interpretation becomes crucial. Some people will interpret the Ross fundraiser as evidence that GoFundMe changed its policy. They'll launch legal defense campaigns and expect approval. Others will interpret it as evidence that federal law enforcement gets preferential treatment. They'll focus on fundraisers for federal agents.

Without clarification from GoFundMe, ambiguity reigns. And ambiguity makes consistent policy enforcement impossible. It makes the platform less useful as a tool for legitimate fundraising because people can't predict what's permissible.

For Good's family and supporters, the precedent is demoralizing. They raised money for a family that lost someone. That seems clearly aligned with GoFundMe's stated mission. But if the platform simultaneously allows fundraising for the person involved in that loss, what does that say about whose needs the platform prioritizes?

The precedent also matters for future law enforcement incidents. If the Ross fundraiser remains online and succeeds financially, it becomes a template for future campaigns. Police officers charged with shootings will point to Ross as evidence that legal defense fundraising is acceptable. Their supporters will launch similar campaigns. And GoFundMe will face pressure to be consistent.

But consistency might mean allowing fundraisers that many people believe shouldn't exist. Or it might mean removing the Ross fundraiser after the fact, which would look even worse. The company has painted itself into a corner through inconsistent enforcement.

Access to Justice and Who Gets Legal Resources

There's a legitimate policy question buried in the Ross situation: Should people charged with crimes have access to crowdfunding for legal defense? This question has implications beyond GoFundMe.

In the U.S. legal system, everyone charged with a felony has a right to legal representation. If they can't afford a lawyer, the state provides a public defender. This is a constitutional right. But public defenders are often overworked, underfunded, and less resourced than private attorneys. A person with money for private legal representation often has better outcomes than a person relying on public defense.

Crowdfunding creates a potential middle ground. People charged with crimes can appeal to the public for money to hire better lawyers. This could equalize access to justice by allowing people without significant wealth to afford better representation.

But crowdfunding also creates inequality. High-profile cases attract donations. Sympathetic defendants attract donations. Cases with good media coverage attract donations. Meanwhile, less visible cases and less sympathetic defendants don't attract funding. So crowdfunding doesn't solve the access to justice problem; it just creates a new way for some people to afford better representation while others don't.

It also creates perverse incentives. Defendants with the best media relations or the most sympathetic stories attract the most funding. This might not correlate with who needs legal resources most urgently or who would benefit most from better representation.

GoFundMe's 2015 position—prohibiting legal defense fundraising—was arguably a way to avoid becoming a tool for access to better legal representation for people charged with crimes. The platform chose not to participate in that system. But allowing the Ross fundraiser reverses that position implicitly. The company is now becoming a platform where some people charged with serious crimes can raise money for legal defense.

The interesting question is whether this represents a change in philosophy or just selective enforcement. If it's a change in philosophy, GoFundMe should announce it and explain why it reached this new position. If it's selective enforcement, that's problematic for the reasons discussed throughout this article.

What Accountability Looks Like: Lessons from Other Platforms

GoFundMe isn't the only platform that has faced criticism for inconsistent policy enforcement. Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and other major platforms have all been accused of enforcing policies selectively. Some have responded by becoming more transparent about their decisions. Others have doubled down on opacity.

Meta, which owns Facebook and Instagram, created an independent oversight board to review content moderation decisions. The board can overrule Meta's moderation in specific cases and make recommendations for policy changes. This creates a layer of accountability and transparency. When the board makes a decision, it explains its reasoning publicly. This approach isn't perfect, but it's more transparent than complete silence.

Twitter has published reports on how it enforces its policies. It breaks down enforcement by category, geography, and time period. It shows trends in policy enforcement. This transparency helps the public understand how consistently the platform enforces its rules.

YouTube has created detailed community guidelines and published metrics about how often different policies are enforced. The company publishes transparency reports showing how many videos it removes for different violations.

GoFundMe hasn't done any of this. The company has no public accountability mechanism. It doesn't publish enforcement statistics. It doesn't explain its policy decisions publicly. When asked about the Ross fundraiser, it declined to comment.

If GoFundMe wanted to rebuild trust after the Ross situation, it could learn from other platforms. The company could:

1. Publish its current policy on legal defense fundraising clearly and explicitly
2. Explain why it made decisions differently in 2015 versus 2025
3. Commit to consistent enforcement going forward
4. Create a process for explaining specific moderation decisions when they're controversial
5. Consider establishing an independent review mechanism for disputed enforcement decisions
6. Publish regular transparency reports on policy enforcement

None of this requires revealing private information or compromising the platform's ability to moderate effectively. It just requires openness about how decisions are made.

Estimated data suggests that while most campaigns comply with GoFundMe's terms, a notable portion may not, leading to removal.

The Political Context: Federal Law Enforcement in 2025

Understanding the Ross fundraiser requires some context about how federal law enforcement has been positioned and discussed in 2025. Immigration and Customs Enforcement has been controversial for years. The agency has faced criticism over detention conditions, family separations, and deportation practices. It's also been a priority for the Trump administration, which returned to office in January 2025.

In this political context, the decision to allow a fundraiser for an ICE agent takes on additional meaning. ICE is viewed very differently by different constituencies. Supporters see it as essential to immigration enforcement. Critics see it as a problematic agency with a history of civil rights violations. A platform decision to allow fundraising for an ICE agent feels politically charged, regardless of intent.

This doesn't necessarily mean GoFundMe made a conscious political decision. The person reviewing the Ross fundraiser might not have thought about the broader political context. They might have just made a technical judgment about whether the campaign violated policy. But the appearance of political favoritism is unavoidable in this context.

The Trump administration's control of federal law enforcement creates incentives to support federal agents. Immigration enforcement is a priority for the administration. An ICE agent charged in a fatal shooting is politically sensitive. The administration has defended the agent and challenged the narrative presented in video evidence.

Does GoFundMe have incentive to stay in the good graces of the Trump administration? Not necessarily. But there are indirect pressures. Federal agencies regulate parts of the internet. Congress funds agencies that could benefit or harm online platforms. Politics and business are connected in ways that aren't always visible.

Again, none of this proves GoFundMe made a conscious political decision. But it illustrates why consistency and transparency are crucial. Without them, people reasonably suspect bias.

Recommendations: What Should Change

If we assume GoFundMe and other platforms want to do better at policy enforcement, what should change?

First, platforms need to clarify their policies. Legal language in terms of service is often vague. Platforms should spell out exactly which types of fundraising are prohibited. Instead of saying "violent crimes," specify which charges qualify. Instead of saying "legal fees," be explicit about whether defense fundraising is ever allowed.

Second, platforms need to enforce policies consistently. Once a policy is established, it should apply equally to everyone. If there are exceptions, they should be spelled out clearly. If a policy changes, that change should be announced and explained.

Third, platforms need to be transparent about decisions. When a controversial moderation decision is made, the company should explain its reasoning. This doesn't require revealing private information, just the policy-based justification for the decision.

Fourth, platforms should create appeal mechanisms for moderation decisions. If someone believes their fundraiser was removed incorrectly, they should have a way to challenge that decision. They should be able to present evidence that the campaign complies with policy.

Fifth, platforms should publish transparency reports. Companies should share data about how often they enforce different policies. They should show trends over time and differences across categories. This allows external scrutiny of enforcement patterns.

Sixth, platforms should consider independent oversight. An outside body with expertise could review controversial decisions and make recommendations about policy. This wouldn't replace the company's own judgment, but it would add another layer of accountability.

None of these changes would eliminate bias or guarantee perfect fairness. But they would increase transparency and accountability. They would make it harder to apply policies selectively without it being noticed.

The Broader Ecosystem: Why This Matters Beyond GoFundMe

The Ross fundraiser matters beyond GoFundMe's policies because it illustrates how large platforms shape public discourse and resource allocation. These companies make decisions that affect who gets amplified, who gets resources, and whose narrative becomes the dominant one.

When platforms enforce their policies inconsistently, they're not just making technical errors. They're subtly favoring some causes and people over others. They're allocating platform resources and visibility. They're helping determine which narratives gain traction.

In a healthy democracy, we want these decisions to be made transparently and fairly. We want to know why platforms make the choices they do. We want opportunities to challenge decisions we believe are wrong. We want some assurance that we're not being silenced or marginalized based on hidden criteria.

GoFundMe's handling of the Ross fundraiser falls short on all these fronts. The decision appears to have been made without transparency. The reasoning hasn't been explained. And it contradicts the company's own precedents without explanation.

This isn't just a problem for GoFundMe. It's a problem for the entire ecosystem of online platforms that have become essential infrastructure for public life. When people can't trust that platforms will enforce their policies fairly, trust in the platforms erodes. That has consequences for how people use these platforms and what they believe about what's happening.

FAQ

What exactly is GoFundMe's policy on legal defense fundraising?

GoFundMe's terms of service explicitly prohibit campaigns designed to help people charged with serious crimes pay for legal representation. The company has stated that campaigns cannot be used to benefit those charged with serious violations of the law, and campaigns cannot explicitly state that funds will be used for attorney fees and court costs related to violent crime charges. This policy was clearly stated and enforced in 2015 when the company removed similar campaigns for police officers charged in deaths.

Why did GoFundMe remove legal defense fundraisers in 2015 but allow the Ross fundraiser in 2025?

GoFundMe has not publicly explained the discrepancy. In 2015, the company removed a fundraiser for Baltimore police officers charged in Freddie Gray's death and a campaign for a South Carolina officer charged in Walter Scott's fatal shooting, citing violations of its policy against legal defense funding. When questioned about the Ross fundraiser in 2025, GoFundMe declined to comment on why it allowed a campaign that appeared to violate the same policy to remain active. The company has not clarified whether its policy changed, whether exceptions exist for federal law enforcement, or whether the decision was made in error.

What does the video evidence show about the shooting of Renee Good?

Bystander video footage shows Good in her dark red SUV as ICE agents approach. Agent Jonathan Ross circles the vehicle with his cell phone raised, then positions himself directly in front of the idling SUV. As the vehicle moves, Ross fires and Good is fatally shot. The video evidence contradicts official accounts from DHS officials describing Good as a "domestic terrorist" who "weaponized" her vehicle, and contradicts Trump's claim that "she ran him over." The shooting was well-documented on video, which has become the most reliable source for understanding what happened during the encounter.

How did the Ross fundraiser description change after media inquiry?

The original fundraiser description explicitly stated that "funds will go to help pay for any legal services this officer needs." After inquiries about whether this violated GoFundMe's terms of service, the description was modified to simply state "Funds will go to help him." The change removed explicit references to legal defense. However, carousel slides at the top of the fundraising page remained active and unmodified, continuing to state "Give to cover Jonathan's legal defense" and "Officer Jonathan Ross's legal defense fund pays attorney fees and court costs." This selective modification meant the stated purpose remained publicly visible despite the sanitized main description.

Why was access to evidence important for Minnesota state investigators?

State investigators from the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension were blocked from the crime scene and no longer had access to crucial evidence, including Renee Good's vehicle and witness interviews conducted by federal investigators. Without this access, Minnesota prosecutors couldn't independently verify the FBI's investigation, challenge conclusions with independent evidence, or even understand what the federal investigation had gathered. State officials claimed that without access to the FBI's case file, it may be impossible to assess whether charges should be brought, even though the shooting was well-documented and occurred within Hennepin County. Access to evidence is essential for state officials to fulfill their constitutional duty to review whether crimes were committed and whether charges are warranted.

What does selective policy enforcement suggest about platform bias?

When platforms enforce policies inconsistently across similar cases, it raises concerns about whether enforcement is driven by neutral policy application or by other factors such as political considerations, relationships with powerful entities, or unconscious bias. Even if no conscious bias exists, the appearance of selective enforcement undermines trust in the platform and suggests that policies are tools for getting preferred outcomes rather than neutral rules applied equally. Consistency and transparency in enforcement are essential for maintaining credibility and allowing external scrutiny of whether platforms are treating all users fairly. When a company won't explain why it enforced a policy one way in one case and differently in another, people naturally suspect that hidden criteria influenced the decision.

How could GoFundMe improve its policy enforcement going forward?

GoFundMe could increase transparency and accountability by clarifying exactly which types of fundraising are prohibited, enforcing policies consistently across all users and circumstances, explaining controversial moderation decisions publicly, creating an appeal process for removed campaigns, publishing regular transparency reports showing enforcement statistics, and considering independent oversight mechanisms like other major platforms have adopted. These changes wouldn't eliminate all bias or guarantee perfect fairness, but they would make enforcement patterns visible to external scrutiny and create mechanisms for challenging decisions that appear incorrect. Transparency is the foundation for trust in platform governance.

What is the broader significance of this case beyond GoFundMe?

The Ross fundraiser illustrates how large online platforms have become essential infrastructure for allocating resources, shaping narratives, and amplifying certain voices over others. When platforms enforce their policies inconsistently, they're making subtle editorial decisions about whose causes deserve resources and visibility. This matters for democracy because it affects whose stories get told, who gets supported, and whose grievances are taken seriously. When people can't trust that platforms will enforce rules fairly, it erodes confidence in these platforms as neutral infrastructure. This case also highlights the tension between federal investigations into federal law enforcement, the importance of state oversight, and how narrative control affects public understanding of events.

Conclusion: What Trust Looks Like in the Digital Age

The GoFundMe Ross fundraiser isn't just about one platform's inconsistent policy enforcement, though that's bad enough. It's about the fundamental question of how large platforms should operate in a democratic society and what accountability looks like when they don't.

Renee Good's death was a tragedy. A 37-year-old mother of three lost her life during an encounter with federal law enforcement. Her family lost someone they loved. That deserves serious attention and accountability.

The investigation into what happened matters. Video evidence shows what the public saw. Official narratives diverged from that video evidence. State investigators were blocked from participating in the investigation. These facts matter because they affect whether justice is properly served.

But the GoFundMe situation adds another dimension. It shows that even supposedly neutral platforms are making choices about whose narratives get supported, whose legal defense gets funded, whose stories get visibility. When those choices appear to be made selectively and without explanation, trust erodes.

GoFundMe has an opportunity to do better. The company could explain its decision about the Ross fundraiser. It could clarify its current policy on legal defense fundraising. It could commit to consistent enforcement going forward. It could create mechanisms for transparency and accountability.

So far, the company has chosen silence. That's a choice too, and it communicates something: that GoFundMe isn't willing to stand behind its decisions publicly. That's not reassuring.

For users of GoFundMe and other platforms, the lesson is clear. These services are essential, but they're not neutral. They make choices that shape outcomes. That's fine—companies have the right to set rules. But they should be transparent about what those rules are, apply them consistently, and be willing to explain their decisions. Anything less is just selective enforcement hiding behind the appearance of neutral infrastructure.

The Good family will continue seeking justice. The investigation will continue. The narrative will continue evolving as more facts emerge. But one thing should be clear: platforms have a responsibility to treat all users equally and to enforce their policies transparently. When they fail to do that, they deserve scrutiny. When they remain silent about why they made the choices they did, they deserve skepticism.

Trust in platforms, like trust in institutions, comes from consistency and transparency. GoFundMe had an opportunity to demonstrate both. It chose to demonstrate neither. That's the real story here.

Key Takeaways

• Platform inconsistency damages credibility: GoFundMe removed similar legal defense fundraisers in 2015 but allowed the Ross campaign to continue in 2025, without explanation
• Silence suggests selective enforcement: When companies won't explain policy decisions, people reasonably suspect bias or hidden criteria influencing the outcome
• Video evidence contradicted official narratives: Bystander footage of the Good shooting contradicts DHS and Trump administration claims about what happened
• State investigative access matters for accountability: Blocking state investigators from crime scenes and evidence prevents local oversight of federal law enforcement
• Platforms shape narratives and resources: Moderation decisions aren't technical; they determine whose causes get visibility, credibility, and funding
• Transparency is foundational: Consistent enforcement, clear policies, public explanation of decisions, and appeal mechanisms are essential for trust
• This affects broader digital infrastructure: How platforms govern themselves has implications for how democracy functions in the 21st century

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