While a picture may be worth a thousand words, no words in the English language can quite capture the gravity of the video that ultimately forced Martin Siller out of the Eugene Police Department.

The community has been in an uproar since the emergence of bodycam footage showing Siller, a now-former officer with the EPD, in his car the night of the January 30 protest at the federal building. The footage recorded a vile, albeit wide-ranging, conversation with what Chief Chris Skinner suggested was a former colleague from Utah’s West Valley Police Department, where Siller had once worked.

The pair spoke about swinger cruises, infidelity and swapped stories of fellow officers engaging in brutal domestic violence. From the comfort of his quiet, cushioned, temperature-controlled service vehicle, Siller made fun of protestors doused in tear gas by federal agents. He lauded the federal agents, mocking “unemployed” protestors and spewing racist stereotypes. At one point, Siller mused about walking a trail during his shift, quipping that he needed a leash.

It’s essential to point out that the bodycam footage was not obtained through a typical public records request; it instead emerged during the criminal proceedings against a protester. Without said proceedings, this footage could never have come to light.

The video predictably inflamed the already-tense relationship the EPD has with the community, a fact Eugene resident Kevin Cronin was quick to point out at last week’s city council meeting. Cronin expounded upon the disturbing pattern of inappropriate behavior, citing a litany of sexual harassment accusations within the EPD, rape accusations involving on-duty officers, domestic violence incidents involving officers and, of course, their reversed rollout of Flock Safety, a controversial license plate surveillance program.

University of Oregon family and human service major Alekhya Bhupalam thinks that the footage
speaks to why there’s a broader mistrust between the public and EPD, asking if the officers who are supposed to protect us can make vulgar comments like that: “Behind the community’s backs, how
are we supposed to trust them?” An officer feeling comfortable enough to admit to on-duty misconduct while being filmed certainly raises a few questions. Has this behavior happened before, and what else could officers be saying when they don’t think they’re being supervised?

The problem doesn’t lie solely with the words Siller spoke, but also with his relaxation in saying
them. His voice never wavers or shows any signs of hesitation. He didn’t even bother to lower his voice to hide it because he didn’t think he needed to.

EPD did not respond to questions about why Siller was on the phone in the first place. However, spokesperson Melinda McLaughlin said their reporting system includes “an independent police auditor, citizen review board and internal affairs system.” Yet she said the conduct Siller displayed is exactly the type of behavior employees would be expected to report. So, in his seven years at the EPD, nobody heard anything concerning?

A reporting system is only as effective as the people willing to use it. If seven years passed without a single flag raised on Siller, the question isn’t just about him — it’s about everyone who worked alongside him, as well.

Siller resigned before facing accountability, but he was right that we can’t just let our officers do whatever they want. But without closure, the uncomfortable question remains: Can we be expected to feel safe and confident in our law enforcement officials when they can so casually show disdain for our community?