Let that sink in. Taxpayer-funded surveillance equipment, sold to cities as essential crime-fighting infrastructure, apparently has the structural integrity of a gas station lighter.

Now, let's be clear: vandalism is a crime, and we're not in the business of encouraging teenagers to go around shooting things with BB guns. Property destruction isn't protest — it's property destruction. But the public reaction to this story tells you something important about where Bay Area residents stand on the rapid, often unchecked expansion of automated surveillance.

One local commenter put it bluntly: "There is still hope for today's younger generation." Another joked that if they were on the jury, they'd "still have some reasonable doubts" — DNA evidence and papal testimony notwithstanding.

The humor is telling. Flock cameras have been adopted by cities across the Bay Area with minimal public debate and even less transparency about data retention, access policies, or how the footage integrates with broader law enforcement databases. Cities have rushed to install these systems, often bypassing the kind of rigorous community input that should accompany any expansion of government surveillance powers. When your residents are rooting for a teenager with a BB gun over your million-dollar camera network, maybe it's time to ask whether you skipped a few steps in the social contract.

The kid broke the law. Charge him, give him community service, move on. But the bigger story isn't a teenager with poor impulse control — it's a government surveillance apparatus expanding so fast that nobody stopped to ask voters if they actually wanted it. Liberty doesn't disappear in one dramatic moment. It erodes one unaccountable camera at a time.

Maybe instead of arresting teenagers, cities should start holding public hearings.