Bow Mar Woman Sues Over Warrantless Flock Camera Tracking

The air in Bow Mar is usually quiet on a September afternoon, the kind of stillness that settles over suburban lawns and empty driveways. But for Chrisanna Elser, the silence was broken by a siren, then by a voice that cut through it with absolute certainty. She had just pulled her forest green Rivian up to a porch when Columbine Valley police Sgt. Jamie Milliman approached, citing theft of a $25 package based on footage from the town’s surveillance cameras.

“You know we have cameras in that town. You can’t move a single inch in or out of that place without us knowing,” Milliman told her, as captured on a Ring doorbell camera and viewed by The Colorado Sun.

Elser, a financial advisor who had never been accused of a crime in her life, told the sergeant she didn’t know what he was talking about. She asked to see the video that supposedly proved her guilt; he refused. When she offered footage from her own vehicle’s onboard cameras to prove where she actually was, he told her to bring it to court. That encounter on Sept. 27, 2025, has now spiraled into a federal lawsuit in U.S. District Court in Denver, one that seeks class-action status and names Milliman, Columbine Valley Police Chief Bret Cottrell, the towns of Bow Mar and Columbine Valley, and Flock Safety.

The suit alleges that the warrantless tracking violated Elser’s constitutional rights, arguing that Flock’s system unlawfully documents Coloradans’ movements. It is a story that hits close to home for anyone who has ever driven through Littleton, Arvada, or the valleys surrounding Denver. We pass these cameras on our way to work, to church, to a doctor’s appointment, or just to visit a friend. We rarely think about who is watching, or how long that data sits in the dark before an officer decides to pull it up.

Elser’s innocence was eventually established, but not without cost. The doorbell video of the actual theft showed a woman who attorneys claim does not look like Elser and who never got into a car. Meanwhile, Elser’s truck, her phone, and the security cameras at her tailor’s shop proved she was more than a quarter-mile away, being fitted for a gown. She spent two weeks trying to present this evidence to a department that did not return her calls. Chief Cottrell ultimately voided the summons, but Elser’s attorneys say she was almost placed on administrative leave in the interim.

“The scariest part is what happened to me can happen to anyone,” Elser said in a statement. “I had no idea the Flock cameras existed and no idea a private company was keeping a record of every time I drove past my own neighborhood, or that any officer could pull it up without asking anyone or giving a reason for doing so.”

The lawsuit seeks to address the friction between private surveillance and public trust. A spokesperson for Columbine Valley, a small suburb west of Littleton, declined to comment on the pending litigation. Flock Safety did not immediately return a request for comment. There is a warmth to the idea of community safety, but there are rough edges here that need smoothing. If you look closely at the map of our region, these camera networks are dense, invisible until they aren’t.

The legal battle will likely take months to resolve, but the question of who owns our movements remains immediate. As Elser’s attorneys argue, she suffered “extreme emotional distress” from the accusation. The case isn’t just about a $25 package; it’s about the quiet, constant hum of being watched.

The last thing you see is the green paint of a Rivian, parked on a quiet street, its engine off, waiting for an apology that took weeks to arrive.