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In early January 2000, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas was at a five-star beach resort in Sea Island, Georgia, hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.
After almost a decade on the court, Thomas had grown frustrated with his financial situation, according to friends. He had recently started raising his young grandnephew, and Thomas’ wife was soliciting advice on how to handle the new expenses. The month before, the justice had borrowed $267,000 from a friend to buy a high-end RV.
At the resort, Thomas gave a speech at an off-the-record conservative conference. He found himself seated next to a Republican member of Congress on the flight home. The two men talked, and the lawmaker left the conversation worried that Thomas might resign.
Congress should give Supreme Court justices a pay raise, Thomas told him. If lawmakers didn’t act, “one or more justices will leave soon” — maybe in the next year.
At the time, Thomas’ salary was $173,600, equivalent to over $300,000 today. But he was one of the least wealthy members of the court, and on multiple occasions in that period, he pushed for ways to make more money. In other private conversations, Thomas repeatedly talked about removing a ban on justices giving paid speeches.
Thomas’ efforts were described in records from the time obtained by ProPublica, including a confidential memo to Chief Justice William Rehnquist from a top judiciary official seeking guidance on what he termed a “delicate matter.”
The documents, as well as interviews, offer insight into how Thomas was talking about his finances in a crucial period in his tenure, just as he was developing his relationships with a set of wealthy benefactors.
Congress never lifted the ban on speaking fees or gave the justices a major raise. But in the years that followed, as ProPublica has reported, Thomas accepted a stream of gifts from friends and acquaintances that appears to be unparalleled in the modern history of the Supreme Court. Some defrayed living expenses large and small — private school tuition, vehicle batteries, tires. Other gifts from a coterie of ultrarich men supplemented his lifestyle, such as free international vacations on the private jet and superyacht of Dallas real estate billionaire Harlan Crow.
Precisely what led so many people to offer Thomas money and other gifts remains an open question. There’s no evidence the justice ever raised the specter of resigning with Crow or his other wealthy benefactors.
George Priest, a Yale Law School professor who has vacationed with Thomas and Crow, told ProPublica he believes Crow’s generosity was not intended to influence Thomas’ views but rather to make his life more comfortable. “He views Thomas as a Supreme Court justice as having a limited salary,” Priest said. “So he provides benefits for him.”
Thomas and Crow didn’t respond to questions for this story. Crow, a major Republican donor, has not had cases at the Supreme Court since Thomas joined it and has previously said Thomas is a dear friend. David Sokol, a conservative financier who has taken Thomas on vacation on a private jet, said in a statement that he and Thomas had never discussed the justice’s finances or when he might retire.
Thomas’ comments in 2000 were to Florida Rep. Cliff Stearns, a vocal conservative who’d been in Congress for 11 years and occasionally socialized with the justice. They set off a flurry of activity across the judiciary and Capitol Hill. “His importance as a conservative was paramount,” Stearns said in a recent interview. “We wanted to make sure he felt comfortable in his job and he was being paid properly.”
There’s an often-criticized dynamic surrounding most important jobs in the federal government: The posts pay far less than comparable jobs in the private sector, but officials can cash in once they leave. Ex-regulators sell advice to the regulated. Generals retire to join military contractors. Former senators get jobs lobbying Congress.
But there is no revolving-door payday waiting on the other side of a lifetime appointment to the Supreme Court. Justices generally stay on the bench past their 80th birthday, if not until death. In 2000, justices were paid more than cabinet secretaries or members of Congress, and far more than the average American. Still, judges’ salaries were not keeping pace with inflation, a source of ire throughout the federal judiciary. Young associates at top law firms made more than Supreme Court justices, while partners at the firms could earn millions a year.
Note: Median American figure is for full-time, year-round workers. Law partner figure is for the highest-paying of the 100 largest firms. (Sources: U.S. Census Current Population Survey, The American Lawyer)Some of Thomas’ colleagues were extremely wealthy — Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was married to a high-paid tax lawyer and Justice Stephen Breyer to the daughter of a wealthy British lord. Thomas did not come from money. When he was appointed to the court in 1991, he was 43 years old and had spent almost all his adult life working for the government. At the time, he still had student loans from law school, Thomas has said.
The full details of Thomas’ finances over the years remain unclear. He made at least two big purchases around the early ’90s: a Corvette and a house in the Virginia suburbs on 5 acres of land. When Thomas and his wife, Ginni, bought the home for $522,000 a year after he joined the court, they borrowed all but $8,000, less than 2% of the purchase price, property records show.
Public records suggest a degree of financial strain. Throughout the first decade of his tenure, the couple regularly borrowed more money, including a $100,000 credit line on their house and a consumer loan of up to $50,000. Around January 1998, Thomas’ life changed when he took in his 6-year-old grandnephew, becoming his legal guardian and raising him as a son. The Thomases sent the child to a series of private schools.
In early January 2000, Thomas took the trip to the Georgia beach resort. Thomas was there to deliver a keynote speech at Awakening, a “conservative thought weekend” featuring golf, shooting lessons and aromatherapy along with panel discussions with businessmen and elected officials. (A founder and organizer of the annual event, Ernest Taylor, told ProPublica that Thomas’ trip was paid for by the organization. Thomas reported 11 free trips that year on his annual financial disclosure, mostly to colleges and universities, but did not disclose attending the conservative conference, an apparent violation of federal disclosure law.)
Thomas spoke at the Awakening conference in 2000. (Screenshot by ProPublica of Awakening <a href="https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24190165-awakening-2000">brochure</a>)On a commercial flight back from Awakening, Thomas brought up the prospect of justices resigning to Stearns, the Republican lawmaker. Worried, Stearns wrote a letter to Thomas after the flight promising “to look into a bill to raise the salaries of members of The Supreme Court.”
“As we agreed, it is worth a lot to Americans to have the constitution properly interpreted,” Stearns wrote. “We must have the proper incentives here, too.”
Stearns’ office soon sought help from a lobbying firm working on the issue, and he delivered a speech on the House floor about judges’ salaries getting eroded by inflation. Thomas’ warning about resignations was relayed at a meeting of the heads of several judges’ associations. L. Ralph Mecham, then the judiciary’s top administrative official, fired off the memo describing Thomas’ complaints to Rehnquist, his boss.
“I understand that Justice Thomas clearly told him that in his view departures would occur within the next year or so,” Mecham wrote of Thomas’ conversation with Stearns. Mecham worried that “from a tactical point of view,” congressional Democrats might oppose a raise if they sensed “the apparent purpose is to keep Justices [Antonin] Scalia and Thomas on the Court.” (Scalia had nine children and was also one of the less wealthy justices. Scalia, Mecham and Rehnquist have since died.)
It’s not clear if Rehnquist ever responded. Several months later, Rehnquist focused his annual year-end report on what he called “the most pressing issue facing the Judiciary: the need to increase judicial salaries.”
Stearns sent a letter to Thomas after their conversation about pay and possible resignations at the Supreme Court. (George Washington University Special Collections Research Center)Several people close to Thomas told ProPublica they believed that it was implausible the justice would ever retire early, and that he may have exaggerated his concerns to bolster the case for a raise. But around 2000, chatter that Thomas was dissatisfied about money circulated through conservative legal circles and on Capitol Hill, according to interviews with prominent attorneys, former members of Congress and Thomas’ friends. “It was clear he was unhappy with his financial situation and his salary,” one friend said.
Former Sen. Trent Lott, then the Republican Senate majority leader, recalled in a recent interview that there were serious concerns at the time that Thomas or other justices would leave.
The public received hardly a hint that such conversations about Thomas were unfolding in Washington. Thomas did once allude to government salaries, in a 2001 speech praising the value of public service. “The job is not worth doing for what they pay. It’s not worth doing for the grief,” he said. “But it is worth doing for the principle.”
Thomas delivered a speech in 2001 on the value of public service. (Screenshot by ProPublica via C-SPAN)Around that time, Thomas was also pushing to allow justices to make paid speeches — a source of income that had been banned in the 1980s. On several occasions, Thomas discussed lifting the ban with appellate Judge David Hansen, who chaired the judiciary’s committee responsible for lobbying Congress on issues like pay, according to Mecham’s memo.
At Sen. Mitch McConnell’s request, a provision removing the ban for judges was quietly inserted into a spending bill in mid-2000. Why McConnell made the proposal became a subject of scrutiny in the legal press. After the Legal Times reported the measure had been dubbed the “Keep Scalia on the Court” bill, Scalia responded that the “honorarium ban makes no difference to me” and denied that he would ever leave the court for financial reasons. (The ban was never lifted. McConnell did not respond to a request for comment.)
During his second decade on the court, Thomas’ financial situation appears to have markedly improved. In 2003, he received the first payments of a $1.5 million advance for his memoir, a record-breaking sum for justices at the time. Ginni Thomas, who had been a congressional staffer, was by then working at the Heritage Foundation and was paid a salary in the low six figures.
Thomas also received dozens of expensive gifts throughout the 2000s, sometimes coming from people he’d met only shortly before. Thomas met Earl Dixon, the owner of a Florida pest control company, while getting his RV serviced outside Tampa in 2001, according to the Thomas biography “Supreme Discomfort.” The next year, Dixon gave Thomas $5,000 to put toward his grandnephew’s tuition. Thomas reported the payment in his annual disclosure filing.
Larger gifts went undisclosed. Crow paid for two years of private high school, which tuition rates indicate would’ve cost roughly $100,000. In 2008, another wealthy friend forgave “a substantial amount, or even all” of the principal on the loan Thomas had used to buy the quarter-million dollar RV, according to a recent Senate inquiry prompted by The New York Times’ reporting. Much of the Thomases’ leisure time was also paid for by a small set of billionaire businessmen, who brought the justice and his family on free vacations around the world. (Thomas has said he did not need to disclose the gifts of travel and his lawyer has disputed the Senate findings about the RV.)
By 2019, the justices’ pay hadn’t changed beyond keeping up with inflation. But Thomas’ views had apparently transformed from two decades before. That June, during a public appearance, Thomas was asked about salaries at the court. “Oh goodness, I think it’s plenty,” Thomas responded. “My wife and I are doing fine. We don’t live extravagantly, but we are fine.”
A few weeks later, Thomas boarded Crow’s private jet to head to Indonesia. He and his wife were off on vacation, an island cruise on Crow’s 162-foot yacht.
Do you have any tips on the Supreme Court? Justin Elliott can be reached by email at justin@propublica.org or by Signal or WhatsApp at 774-826-6240. Josh Kaplan can be reached by email at joshua.kaplan@propublica.org and by Signal or WhatsApp at 734-834-9383.
Kathleen Quinn and Marissa Muller from Berkeley Journalism’s Investigative Reporting Program contributed research.
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In the last 10 years, taxpayers have spent millions to outfit police officers across the country with body-worn cameras in what was sold as a new era of transparency and accountability. But a survey by ProPublica shows that when civilians die at the hands of police, the public usually never sees the footage.
At least 1,201 people were killed in 2022 by law enforcement officers, about 100 deaths a month, according to Mapping Police Violence, a nonprofit research group that tracks police killings. ProPublica examined the 101 deaths that occurred in June 2022, a time frame chosen because enough time had elapsed that investigations could reasonably be expected to have concluded. The cases involved 131 law enforcement agencies in 34 states.
In 79 of those deaths, ProPublica confirmed that body-worn camera video exists. But more than a year later, authorities or victims’ families had released the footage of only 33 incidents.
In 101 police killings in June 2022, body-camera footage … Jason Kao/ProPublicaWe filed public records requests for the video in the remaining 46 cases and in 26 were told it could not be publicly released or did not receive any response. In 14 cases, law enforcement agencies offered the video for a fee, ranging from $19 in Lowndes County, Georgia, to nearly $16,000 in Hillsborough County, Florida. Six departments eventually gave ProPublica the footage for free.
The lack of disclosure undermines the promise that equipping police with body cameras would increase transparency around fatal police encounters and hold officers to account for bad or criminal behavior.
President Barack Obama made body-worn cameras a centerpiece of his police reform efforts after Michael Brown, an 18-year-old Black man, was shot and killed by police in Ferguson, Missouri, in 2014. Police claimed they were acting in self-defense, while witnesses said that was not true. Weeks of protests ensued. It was one in a series of police killings in which the officers’ stories differed from witness accounts or videos taken by civilians nearby. Brown’s family, advocates and even some law enforcement leaders called for the widespread use of body-worn cameras in hopes they would help restore trust between police and a public that had lost faith.
The Justice Department allocated millions to help departments across the country outfit officers with the technology.
“They were wholly sold as an accountability tool to reassure people that police would be held accountable for their actions or for what they are doing while operating under the powers of the state,” said Hans Menos, who advises police departments with the Center for Policing Equity and formerly headed the Police Advisory Commission in Philadelphia, an early adopter of body cameras. “If we don’t provide that level of transparency, what we’ve really done is made people pay for something that they don’t get any tangible benefit out of.”
Philadelphia signed a $12.5 million contract in 2017 to equip its entire police force with cameras. Since then, at least 27 people have been killed by Philadelphia police, according to Mapping Police Violence, but in only two cases has body-camera video been released to the public.
ProPublica’s review shows that withholding body-worn camera footage from the public has become so entrenched in some cities that even pleas from victims’ families don’t serve to shake the video loose.
In Savannah, Georgia, for instance, neither Saudi Arai Lee’s family nor the public has been allowed to see the footage of the fatal shooting of the 31-year-old Black man.
Savannah police and Georgia state investigators say Lee was walking down a street June 24, 2022, when an officer stopped to question him. Lee told the officer he had a permit to carry a gun and pulled out his wallet. He lifted his shirt to show the gun. Then, for an undisclosed reason, the officer began chasing Lee, and shot and killed him. It was the fifth killing by Savannah police in a year. The agencies won’t release the footage, they said, because the killing is still under investigation.
Lee’s uncle, Timothy Lee, arrived on the scene minutes after the shooting and spoke to witnesses. “He was reaching for his wallet and that’s when the man shot him,” Timothy Lee said people told him. “We want justice. We think he should go to jail for the rest of his life for what he did.”
On the same day, halfway across the country, Christopher D. Kelley was killed by police in Topeka, Kansas. His family also wants the footage of his killing to be made public, according to their attorney, LaRonna Lassiter Saunders. The family and lawyer have seen the video and believe that if it were made public it could serve to prevent similar tragedies in the future.
Kelley, a 38-year-old Black Marine veteran, was in the midst of a mental health crisis, Saunders said, when police found him behind an Amtrak station, standing on a pile of rocks and holding a knife. More than a dozen officers surrounded him with guns drawn and spent almost an hour trying to convince Kelley to drop the knife, even firing nonlethal bean bags at him, according to a report by state investigators. Then, according to the district attorney, who cleared police of wrongdoing, Kelley “raised the knife and charged” toward police, prompting three officers to open fire. If the public saw exactly what happened, Kelley’s family has said, maybe the next time Topeka police are called to help someone in a mental health crisis, they won’t end up killing them.
“If you want to create transparency and accountability and to restore the trust that this community has lost … release the doggone tapes,” Kelley’s sister Christian said at a press conference in February.
The Promise of Body-Worn CamerasAfter Brown’s killing, the Department of Justice stepped up funding for police to buy body-worn cameras, providing more than $184 million over the next decade. By 2016, nearly half of 15,328 law enforcement agencies across the country, and 80% of police departments with more than 500 officers, had begun using the cameras, according to the Department of Justice. For many police officers in America today, body cameras are standard-issue equipment that they are supposed to turn on during most law enforcement activities.
The videos, advocates say, can help civilians fact-check the official account of what happened in a contentious incident, such as when police use force or take someone’s life.
“Law enforcement has the power of credibility on their side,” said Dawn Blagrove, an attorney with Emancipate North Carolina, a group that helps families get access to body-worn camera video. “Even though time and time again they are proved to be uncredible or unreliable, people still are disposed to believing whatever narrative law enforcement puts out.”
Sometimes the release of those videos can spur change. In the last two years, Raleigh, North Carolina, police banned no-knock warrants and adopted a deescalation policy for encounters with people in a mental health crisis. The reforms were made, Blagrove said, because body-camera video helped document what police were doing wrong in such encounters so they could try to fix it.
Varying Disclosure PoliciesPolice departments involved in 14 of the June 2022 deaths that ProPublica reviewed released the body-camera footage because a department policy or a state or local law demanded it. The requirements vary. Seattle, for example, has a department policy calling for video to be released within 72 hours of a “critical incident,” while in California, a state law requires all departments make the footage public within 45 days.
The videos often begin with a brief introduction by an officer, followed by edited and redacted footage. Sometimes, they are accompanied by 911 recordings and video from dash cameras or drones. Other times they include stills of a weapon the victim allegedly carried. When Akron, Ohio, city leaders held a news conference to release video from the June 27 shooting of Jayland Walker, they included footage from eight officers,
When Akron, Ohio, city leaders held a news conference to release video from the June 27 shooting of Jayland Walker, they included footage from eight officers, in accordance with a city law mandating such disclosure within a week of an incident.
“It is clear what our community wants is to be able to review the information for themselves,” said Mayor Dan Horrigan at the news conference. “It is our commitment to be as open and transparent as we can be.”
The videos showed that officers shot 25-year-old Walker 46 times in under 10 seconds, sparking protests. In April, a grand jury decided the officers should not be indicted on criminal charges. Walker’s family has filed a civil suit against the city.
But Akron isn’t the norm.
Some departments that have disclosure policies don’t always follow them. The New York Police Department, the largest in the country, is supposed to release video within 30 days of a critical incident. But a ProPublica review of the department’s data found that of 380 such incidents since the policy was enacted, the department released videos only 64 times, and only twice within its own 30-day time frame. A spokesperson for the NYPD said that privacy concerns, local laws or unspecified department policies kept it from releasing more of the videos. “The NYPD remains wholly committed to its policy of releasing such recordings as quickly and responsibly as circumstances and the law dictate,” the spokesperson wrote.
Many other departments — including 11 from ProPublica’s June 2022 review — said they cannot disclose body-camera footage while incidents are under investigation.
That’s the reason Savannah police cited when they denied requests from ProPublica to see the video of Lee’s killing.
Advocates for more transparency, though, say making video available to the family and the public should happen regardless of how an investigation is proceeding.
“The point of the tape being released is expediency in getting it to the public,” said Juandalynn Givan, a state lawmaker in Alabama who has pushed for more transparency there. “You might not have convened a grand jury for six or eight months."
State Law Blocks the WayIn many states, the roadblocks to disclosure are encoded into the law.
In Pennsylvania, for example, a law passed in 2017 — after the state supreme court ruled body-worn camera footage is a public record — requires requests for video to be made in person or via certified mail within 60 days of an incident. And police and prosecutors are given broad discretion to withhold video if they see it as evidence in an investigation. “It actually serves more as a block to accountability and transparency than it does to foster release of information,” said Terry Mutchler, an attorney who has helped clients obtain video through court orders.
That’s what allows Philadelphia, one of the largest departments in the country, to routinely withhold video.
A spokesperson said the department is “committed to transparency and accountability” and added that “the legal framework governing the release of BWC footage is designed to balance the public’s right to information with the need to protect ongoing investigations and sensitive details.”
In Alabama, Kansas and South Carolina, the law makes footage confidential by default, often classifying it as an investigative record akin to a police interrogation, which can be released at the discretion of police or a judge.
Alabama’s Law Enforcement Agency cited state law when it refused ProPublica’s request for video of the June 9, 2022, fatal shooting of Robert Tyler White by an off-duty Rainbow City police officer. Police say White tried to enter the officer’s vehicle and an elementary school. White’s family has said he suffered from depression and may have been suicidal but does not think he was trying to harm others.
Kansas law allows families of victims to view footage within 20 days of a request, but there is no requirement for police to release it to the public.
ProPublica’s request for footage of Kelley’s killing was denied under that law. Releasing the video, the city of Topeka said, “is not in the public’s interest.”
But Kelley’s family members, who have seen the video, want it to be made public because they say it highlights how police mishandled a mental health emergency. Saunders, the family’s attorney, says the video shows police surrounded Kelley and unnecessarily escalated a situation. “After 50-plus minutes of him asking them to leave him alone, him trying to run away … you can see he just got to a point where he was already broke,” Saunders said.
She said he did not charge at police with a knife, as the department has claimed. “He tried to make a run for this little path that they had made, but as soon as he headed down that path they shot him several times,” she said
State investigators and Topeka police declined to comment on what the video showed and directed questions to the district attorney’s office, which did not respond to interview requests. In September 2022, the district attorney cleared the officers of wrongdoing.
Four months after Kelley’s death, Topeka police killed another man whose family had called 911 because he was having a mental breakdown. Saunders, who has seen body camera video from that incident as well, said it showed police chased Taylor Lowery and surrounded him as he held a wrench and stood next to a knife. Five officers then shot and killed him. The district attorney found the killing was justified, saying Lowery had tried to carjack someone and was a threat to police officers. Lowery’s family disagrees and wants video of that killing to be released to the public.
Having the public see what transpired, Saunders said, could spark reforms like redirecting 911 calls to mental health crisis teams rather than police. But, she said, that first requires the public to see the video that contradicts the official narrative. “They’re making it look like these two men were violent or attacking, and that was not the case,” Saunders said. “If anything, they were under attack, they were retreating, they were running, they were trying to get away. And so they [the families] just want the public to see the real truth.”
North Carolina law requires a court order for footage to be released to the public. ProPublica found three killings in June 2022 for which video exists but has not been released, and in each case police denied our request, citing that law.
Even families must petition a judge to get a copy of video. Without a court order, they have to ask police to let them view the footage at police stations. Police chiefs, district attorneys and a host of other law enforcement personnel, possibly even the same officers involved in the killing, can legally be in the room and have the power to choose which parts of a video a relative can see based on their interpretation of the statute.
“There is no way for you to watch the video without essentially going into the belly of the beast,” said Dawn Blagrove, who crisscrosses the state to accompany relatives to police stations to view footage. Their goal, she said, is “making sure that when people are having to relive, or see for the first time, a loved one taking their last breath, that they don’t do that without some support, that they don’t do that alone.”
In the wake of the May 2020 murder of George Floyd, advocates in North Carolina attempted to reform its body-camera law as part of a broad criminal justice reform bill that included provisions for releasing video to the public, said Blagrove, who served on the governor’s Task Force on Racial Equity in Criminal Justice, which drafted the bill. “Once they got it into the General Assembly, the real substantive parts of those recommendations that would have created real change were gutted,” said Blagrove.
Instead, changes to the law made accessing video even more difficult, requiring a court order. The fallout from the law, Blagrove said, has been devastating. “It is just a system that is designed around protecting law enforcement and, simultaneously, creating a chilling effect on friends and family who want to get some answers as to how and why their loved one has died.”
In many of these states, lobbying groups representing law enforcement officers and prosecutors have played a decisive role in keeping video out of public reach. The North Carolina Sheriffs’ Association, for instance, successfully blocked the reforms Blagrove and other advocates were hoping to enact into law after 2020. In Alabama, lobbying on behalf of police chiefs, sheriffs and district attorneys helped block two proposed laws that would have allowed the public to request video. Law enforcement lobbying groups have also thwarted efforts at reforms in Kansas since 2015.
Selective ReleaseWithout uniform state policies in place for when video must be released to the public, Blagrove and other advocates say police departments have been able to selectively release footage to support their narrative, while often hiding images that might be embarrassing or worse.
This January, police in Raleigh said they killed Daniel Turcios, a Hispanic man they encountered on the interstate after a traffic accident, because he was high on drugs and threatening them with a knife. Police released an edited video supporting that narrative. But after public pressure, they released the full video along with a toxicology report, which showed something very different, Blagrove said. “They chased him and they shot him and killed him in front of his family,” Blagrove said. “They had him written off as this knife-wielding, drug-induced man, and by the time we were finished with it, it was like a family man was shot in front of his children.”
Alabama lawmakers adopted North Carolina’s law, almost word for word, this June.
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Graphics and production by Jason Kao.
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Video ranking Midwestern cities by transit, affordability, and vibes. St. Louis gets a comfortable A rank.
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