Truth, Technology and the Discipline of Institutional Honesty
Few issues in modern policing generate as much heat (and as little patience for nuance) as body-worn cameras. In Jamaica, the debate has settled into a familiar pattern: repetition masquerading as revelation, assertion displacing evidence, and accusation presented as analysis. In his recent column in the Force Orders, Police Commissioner Dr Kevin Blake steps into this space with a posture that is neither apologetic nor combative. He chooses clarity. His words signal a JCF that has grown comfortable explaining itself without pleading for permission to do so.
Commissioner Blake begins by acknowledging that the conversation is not new. He notes that he has “been following the discussions… about Police fatal shootings and body worn cameras (BWC),” and that he has also “been taking note of the several attempts of a few to create a false perception of the issues.” The choice of language matters. This is not framed as misunderstanding or confusion. It is framed as intention. He later sharpens the point with characteristic directness: “I am convinced that this is not misunderstanding, it is direct misleading.”
That assessment marks an inflection point in the organisation’s public posture. Dr Blake admits that his instinct has often been to lead with diplomacy. “Many times I try to be diplomatic and kind,” he writes, before adding a line that carries institutional weight: “But Colleagues, I probably need to be more direct when calling out lies.” This is not rhetorical escalation. It is a recalibration rooted in the belief that sustained misinformation corrodes trust more effectively than silence ever could.
At the centre of the dispute is a claim that refuses to die: that the Jamaica Constabulary Force has stalled the implementation of body-worn cameras by hiding behind unresolved infrastructure challenges. The Commissioner dismantles this narrative not with generalities, but with a record. He asks, pointedly, “How many times have you heard me outline the process that we undertook to effectively deploy body worn cameras?” He reminds readers that the early years of the project were consumed by building “the infrastructure that was needed and is an integral prerequisite” for deployment. He then places a clear marker in time: “the infrastructure has now been in place since 2023.”
In September of last year, Dr Blake publicly explained that the Force was “at the advanced stage of procuring 1,000 cameras.” Those cameras arrived “approximately 2 weeks after.” They have since been deployed, and the organisation is now “in procurement for an additional 1,000 cameras.” The persistence of the contrary narrative, he observes, cannot be explained by lack of information. “Yet, persons continue to feed to the public the lies that we have said that we are awaiting the infrastructure.”
The Commissioner does not stop at rebuttal and moves to interrogate motive. Why does this narrative endure? His answer is unambiguous. “To continue to feed the diatribe of JCF’s resistance to body worn cameras helps to cement their relevance and hide their incompetence …they can expect no apologies for not calling a spade a shovel.” The Force, in other words, has reached a stage of maturity where precision is preferred to politeness.
There is a broader institutional argument at work here. Dr Blake situates the body-worn camera debate within a wider economy of commentary that thrives on dysfunction. He writes about those who “make a living and a name by tearing down our institutions and being purveyors of bad news,” before adding, with strategic calm, that the JCF “intend[s] to starve them of the bad news on which they thrive.” The subtext is critical here. Reform disrupts not only criminal enterprises, but reputational ones as well.
This matters because the body-worn camera debate is rarely treated as a technical or operational issue. It is often deployed as a moral shorthand, which is proof, for some, of institutional bad faith. Dr Blake rejects that framing. He observes that detractors locate the Force’s recent crime-reduction success “solely on unlawful killings, and not effective and sensible strategies.” The implication is stark: competence is denied because incompetence is required to sustain a preferred worldview.
Against this backdrop, the Commissioner’s call to action is measured and deliberate. He urges a redirection of public energy. Instead of amplifying distortion, he suggests that voices join the Force in “appealing to the murderous thugs to not raise their weapons against the police when we have to confront them.” It is a reminder that technology operates within human choice, and that body-worn cameras do not erase the realities of armed confrontation.
The column closes with reassurance rather than defiance. Dr Blake affirms to his members: “you are not alone, you are not unappreciated, and you are not unsupported.” He anchors that support in lawful conduct and professional restraint, urging officers to “continue to do your work lawfully, courageously, and with the professionalism that defines the Jamaica Constabulary Force.” This is not a retreat from accountability. It is a declaration that accountability thrives best in institutions confident enough to tell the truth plainly.
The ongoing debate about body-worn cameras will not disappear. Nor should it. Scrutiny is part of democratic policing. What the Commissioner’s column makes clear, however, is that scrutiny must be anchored in fact, not fixation. The JCF has chosen transparency over timidity. It has chosen explanation over evasion. The call now extends beyond the organisation itself: engage the evidence, respect the record, and allow reform to be judged by its integrity, its restraint, and its results.
