A Kern County, California, SWAT team shot and killed my father, Lyle Federman, in 1998. He had no criminal record. He was accused of no crime. The police had no warrant. He was an eccentric, nature-loving computer programmer that wanted to be left alone. The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals held that a jury could find that the police “used excessive force” and violated his constitutional rights when they broke into his home and shot him 18 times while “he was surrendering...” Pulitzer Prize-winning author Edward Humes published the book “Mean Justice” exposing Kern County’s brutality and corruption. Recently, Hulu ran “Killing County,” a series highlighting the county’s pattern of corruption, coverups and excessive force.
Antisemitism was also at play. Before my father was killed, he was antagonistically asked if he was Christian after the officer had already been told he was a rabbi and Jewish (the officer admitted to this in deposition testimony). That’s why it rattled me to learn that Border Patrol field leader Gregory Bovino allegedly mocked a Minnesota U.S. attorney’s Orthodox faith and Shabbat observance just one day before six career federal prosecutors reportedly resigned over the Justice Department’s handling of Renee Good’s killing (Bovino has not commented on these accusations).
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Watching the country relive similar scenes of police violence is excruciating. It drags me back into the worst nightmare of my life. I do not watch these incidents as a spectator. I watch them as someone who has already lived through what law enforcement escalation costs.
But we keep analyzing police shootings the wrong way. Public debate treats each new video like a forensic puzzle, freezing frames to ask whether a hand twitched or a wheel turned. Those final seconds, however, are only the last frame of a much longer story. Videos do not show why officers rushed instead of waiting, closed distance instead of backing up, or escalated.
U.S. immigration enforcement agents fatally shot two people in Minneapolis last month. I believe these deaths occurred because training rewards escalation and normalizes confrontation, not because officers are malicious.
On Jan. 7, an ICE agent shot and killed Renee Nicole Good, an unarmed 37-year-old mother of three, as she attempted to drive from the scene. Video shows her turning the vehicle away from an officer in an attempt to avoid him. Her death sparked national outrage and renewed questions about the use of force.
On Jan. 24, federal agents fatally shot Alex Jeffrey Pretti, a 37-year-old intensive care nurse with a concealed carry firearm permit. The government initially claimed — without evidence — that he posed a threat and was intent on a “massacre,” even when widely circulated video showed he was holding a camera and attempting to assist others before he was pepper-sprayed, tackled and shot multiple times. After public backlash, White House deputy chief of staff Stephen Miller acknowledged possible wrongdoing, saying that agents “may not have been following” protocol in Pretti’s shooting.
My father’s case shows how quickly sequences like these can unfold. Neighbors reported him exhibiting what officers described as odd but noncriminal behavior. My father had relocated from Los Angeles to the Tehachapi mountains to live a reclusive life in nature. All he wanted was to be left alone. Without a warrant and without consulting mental health professionals, a deputy decided my father should be taken into custody for an evaluation. My father was never informed of that decision. Instead, officers surrounded his home with armored vehicles and snipers.
According to court records and deposition testimony, officers antagonized him during the standoff, asking whether he was Christian after being told he was a rabbi and Jewish. What began as a noncriminal welfare check turned into a siege, a warrantless entry, and then a fatal, unnecessary shooting. The Ninth Circuit emphasized that the police’s tactics themselves transformed a relatively minor situation into a deadly one.
Attorney John Burton, who represented my family and spent decades litigating police misconduct cases, explained that “cases often turn on everything the police did before that final second. When officers rush, surround and surprise people, they often create the danger to which they claim to be responding.”
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Officer training and culture should emphasize modern deescalation tactics. Officers should create time and distance between themselves and a potential threat to allow for assessment and communication. Closing the gap quickly and compressing time increases fear on both sides and reduces options for peaceful resolution. Modern guidance encourages officers to back up and use cover when there is no immediate threat to life.
This is especially true when someone is in a vehicle that might be in the way. The safest response that law enforcement guidelines recommend is to give the vehicle room to move, not to swarm it or stand in its path, as the officer did with Good. If officers can safely increase distance without endangering bystanders, they should do so. This reduces the likelihood that a car is weaponized.
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Officers should use clear, calm communication, one instruction at a time, with simple choices rather than overlapping commands. For example: “Please put the phone down and step back. You are safe. I am not here to hurt you.” Narrating intentions like “I am stepping back now” reduces perceived threat and confusion.
Deescalation means avoiding actions that manufacture an emergency when none exists. Surprise entries, using pepper spray without imminent danger, as officers did with Pretti, or using flashbangs to force compliance often inflame a crisis. When time allows, containment and negotiation save lives.
When force becomes necessary, it should be proportional, limited to interrupting an immediate threat, and stopped as soon as that threat ends. In many cases, patience, communication and distance prevent a momentary spike in fear from becoming a fatal bullet.
Nearly 40 years ago, in Tennessee v. Garner, the Supreme Court held that deadly force is justified only when an officer has probable cause to believe a suspect poses an imminent threat of serious harm. Training that treats ambiguity itself as danger undermines that requirement.
These are not abstract debates. They are questions of life and death. My father’s death was not an anomaly. And the deaths of Renee Good and Alex Pretti show that without intentional training, policy, and cultural change, law enforcement will continue to escalate encounters.
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If we want fewer lives lost, we must stop treating each shooting as an isolated tragedy. The problem is not simply individual misconduct. Officers are not malicious. It is a system that rewards escalation, and normalizes confrontation. Until we change how officers assess risk, and interact with civilians, we will continue to call these deaths unavoidable.
They are not.
Eli Federman has a law degree and is the founder of a private equity and venture capital firm. He has written on society, religion and the Constitution at the Wall Street Journal, Los Angeles Times, Reuters, The New York Times, Fox News, CNN, and others. He is writing a book on his father. Find him on X @elifederman.
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