Police Profits From Seized Cash

Broom sweeping dollar bills into red dustpan floor

When the government can take your cash without charging you with a crime, “innocent until proven guilty” starts to sound like an empty slogan.

Story Snapshot

A Texas traffic stop ended with $41,680 seized from a man who was never arrested, charged, or convicted.
Civil asset forfeiture runs through civil court, where the burden of proof is lower and owners often must fight to get property back.
Between 2018 and 2020, Texas law enforcement added $135 million to budgets through seizures and forfeitures, including more than $37 million tied to salaries and overtime.
A class-action lawsuit backed by the Institute for Justice challenges Harris County’s forfeiture practices as unconstitutional and financially conflicted.

A Routine Traffic Stop, a Life-Changing Seizure

Harris County, Texas deputies stopped Ameal Woods in 2019 while he traveled from Natchez, Mississippi to buy a used tractor-trailer. Woods carried $41,680 in cash—money he said was intended for a legitimate purchase and built from savings and family help. Police seized the cash under Texas civil forfeiture rules, even though Woods was not arrested, charged, or convicted of any crime. According to the Institute for Justice, Woods and his partner then waited more than two years with no hearing or meaningful chance to present their case.

The timeline matters because it shows how quickly property can disappear and how slowly the system can respond. Woods’ case became a centerpiece for a broader legal challenge filed in 2021. The lawsuit argues that Harris County’s program is built around tactics that make seizures easy—while making it hard for ordinary citizens to recover what was taken. The research available does not include Harris County’s formal response or the current status of the litigation, leaving important accountability questions unresolved.

Why “Civil” Forfeiture Changes the Rules of the Game

Civil asset forfeiture is not a criminal conviction process, and that distinction is the entire controversy. The proceeding targets property, not a person, and it takes place in civil court, where standards can be more forgiving to the government than “beyond a reasonable doubt.” In practical terms, owners can find themselves forced to hire attorneys and navigate complex filings simply to reclaim what they already own. Legal concerns raised in the research focus on due process protections and the idea that punishing someone financially without a conviction undermines basic constitutional guardrails.

The historical roots also show why many Americans view forfeiture with suspicion. Research summaries trace modern forfeiture powers back to English common-law practices that allowed sweeping seizures—abuses the Founders cited when they rejected generalized government search authority. Critics argue that modern forfeiture can resemble that same overreach: the state acts first, and the citizen scrambles later. Even when a person is ultimately cleared, the costs and delay can inflict the punishment anyway, especially on families without resources to fight back.

“Policing for Profit” Incentives in Texas

The most persuasive factual red flag in the provided research is the financial incentive structure. Between 2018 and 2020, Texas law enforcement reportedly added $135 million to agency budgets through seizures and forfeitures. More than $37 million went to salaries and overtime for officers and prosecutors involved in decisions to seize property. Harris County and the Houston area are highlighted as major participants, with Houston accounting for more than 10 percent of the statewide forfeiture total and paying more than $2 million annually tied to salaries and overtime derived from seizures.

This budgetary feedback loop is why many constitutional conservatives see forfeiture as more than a crime-fighting tool. When the same system that decides to seize property can also benefit financially, the public is asked to trust that temptation will never affect enforcement decisions. The Institute for Justice frames this as “policing for profit,” and their lawsuit claims the financial incentive is unconstitutional. The research provides strong numerical context for the incentive concern, even while it offers limited visibility into internal decision-making in specific offices.

Reforms Tried, Abuses Persisted

Texas has tried to patch the problem before. After the Tenaha scandal—where officers seized roughly $3 million from at least 140 people and reportedly used coercive threats to secure waivers—state leaders enacted 2011 reforms signed by then-Gov. Rick Perry. Those reforms prohibited waiver tactics that bypassed court proceedings and restricted certain uses of forfeiture funds after reports of spending on nonessential perks. Yet the research indicates forfeiture revenues remained significant years later, suggesting that partial reforms did not eliminate the underlying incentives or the uneven burden placed on citizens.

Beyond Woods’ case, the research describes patterns that look less like precision targeting and more like routine fishing. Examples include vehicle seizures tied to someone else’s alleged conduct and a case where a driver said he faced pressure to sign away money under threat of arrest, later winning damages. Federal airport seizures are also cited, including large amounts taken from travelers. Taken together, the cases illustrate a consistent risk: forfeiture can function as a shortcut around probable-cause rigor and due process—two principles conservatives expect government to respect.

An Oklahoma City forfeiture scandal highlights a bigger problem: When police can keep seized cash, abuse follows. https://t.co/nOtYtBKHTE

— reason (@reason) February 18, 2026

For Americans who watched years of government expansion and selective enforcement debates, forfeiture is a reminder that the biggest threat to liberty is often structural, not partisan. The research does not claim every seizure is illegitimate, and law enforcement often argues forfeiture disrupts trafficking and organized crime. The constitutional question is whether that goal justifies a system where property can be taken first, with the owner left to prove innocence later. If reform is serious, the obvious pressure point is removing direct financial benefit and tightening due process protections so rights are not dependent on a person’s ability to afford a legal fight.