Let's unpack that.

Yep served as interim chief, meaning he already sat at the top of the SFPD org chart. He presumably knows how policing works. He's been around the block — literally and figuratively. So why exactly does a former chief need to go back to cop school?

The answer, of course, is that the FBI National Academy and similar programs aren't really about learning how to dust for fingerprints. They're prestige credentials, networking opportunities, and résumé boosters. They're the kind of thing that looks great on a LinkedIn profile and costs real money — money that comes from a department already stretched thin on actual street-level policing.

And then there's the "adviser to the chief" title itself — a role that raises more questions than it answers. What does an adviser to the chief actually do? What's the salary? Is this a newly created position, or did it exist before Yep needed somewhere to land after his interim stint ended? City Hall has a long and storied tradition of creating cushy advisory roles for political allies, and San Franciscans deserve clarity on whether this is governance or patronage.

None of this is to say Paul Yep is a bad cop or a bad person. But in a city where residents routinely complain about slow 911 response times and visible street crime, the optics of sending a former chief to an elite FBI program while he occupies a vaguely defined advisory role are — let's be generous — not great.

SFPD's budget is north of $700 million annually. Every dollar spent on executive perks is a dollar not spent on patrol officers, investigations, or the kind of visible policing that actually makes neighborhoods safer. If this training serves a concrete, articulable purpose that benefits San Francisco, great — show us. If it's a golden handshake wrapped in a lanyard and a certificate, taxpayers deserve to know that too.