Police impersonation isn’t new. From ISIS fighters and white supremacists to lone attackers, extremists have exploited the trust that a badge commands to bypass barriers and commit violence long before last month’s assassination of Minnesota House of Representatives Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, and the shooting of Minnesota State Senator John Hoffman and his wife. 

Terrorists understand that modern states rely on an unwritten contract: that legitimate force belongs only to recognized authorities, and that the public can trust the uniform on sight. Police impersonation is an attack on the bedrock of local and state security. When bad actors turn symbols of protection into disguises for predation, they sow doubt in the entire chain of public safety. Communities grow wary of opening the door, witnesses hesitate to cooperate, and the burden on genuine officers grows heavier with every misuse of the badge. 

This tactic spans ideologies and borders. In 2011, Anders Breivik donned a police uniform to massacre youth activists in Norway. In 2012, al-Qaeda fighters used police and army uniforms, along with stolen security vehicles, to launch coordinated attacks on checkpoints across Iraq––leaving dozens dead. In 2020, Canada’s worst mass shooting began with the killer posing as a Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer.

Closer to home, law enforcement have foiled multiple plots involving police disguise. In the 1980s, white supremacist William Joseph Krar was arrested for impersonating a police officer and later caught building a cyanide gas bomb. In 2015, an Illinois National Guard member offered his uniform to help his cousin plan an attack against military personnel on behalf of ISIL. This year, a Palm Beach man was arrested with twelve thousand rounds of ammunition and a Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office deputy uniform after threatening to commit mass shootings. 

Again and again, the strategy is straightforward: trust the badge, hesitate to resist. By the time victims or responders realize the insignia is counterfeit, it is often too late. 

Preventing impersonation plots is more difficult than stopping other types of planned violence. Surplus uniforms, counterfeit badges, and decommissioned patrol cars are surprisingly easy to acquire legally or with minimal forgery skills. Unlike more complex weapons or bomb-making materials, purchasing a vest and badge leaves little trace until they are used. 

To be sure, law enforcement agencies have long flagged the threat. A decade ago, the Pennsylvania Criminal Intelligence Center warned of the “new terrorist threat” of first responder impersonation. The advice then remains relevant: watch for suspicious use of uniforms, vehicles, and gear that don’t match jurisdiction standards and flag unusual attempts to obtain police paraphernalia. 

Public vigilance matters too. Several local police unions now urge residents to call a non-emergency line or 911 if they feel unsure about the officer at their door. Guides also explain how to spot fake cops, highlighting the use of civilian vehicles, patchwork uniforms, or unfamiliar sirens designed to fool the untrained eye. Still, even trained eyes can hesitate. When Breivik arrived at the Utøya ferry dock in 2011, the captain noticed it was unusual for an officer to arrive in a civilian car rather than a patrol vehicle. But with Oslo reeling from the bombing just hours earlier, the uniform and badge felt like reason enough to wave him through. Trusting the appearance of authority is not a failing––it is a normal reflex that attackers have learned to exploit. 

But strengthening trust requires more than a checklist. Law enforcement leaders should press for routine audits of surplus equipment, tighter controls on secondhand sales, and clearer, faster ways for residents to verify an officer’s identity––whether that means a QR code, a phone app, or a dedicated dispatch number for on-the-spot confirmation. 

Police impersonation works because trust works. Undermining that trust is exactly the point. Once it is damaged, it is hard to rebuild. The Minnesota attacks are a grim reminder that the line between law and lawlessness can be crossed with something as simple as a surplus vest and counterfeit badge. 

Defending the trust that keeps communities safe is not just a police job––it’s a collective one. If an abundance of trust is the currency of police impersonation plots, it must be safeguarded with vigilance, accountability, and public awareness. Recognizing that a uniform can be faked should not make us fear every badge, but it should remind us that safeguarding trust in our law enforcement institutions is vital to enhancing public safety.

Author bio:
Samantha Olson’s research focuses on extremist appropriations of historical narratives and white supremacist terrorism. She is currently a Research Fellow at the Counter Extremism Project and at the Accelerationism Research Consortium (ARC).