The Sheriff’s Office Issues a Scam Alert — and Accidentally Performs One
If the sheriff’s office keeps this up, it may want to trademark its new brand identity: “Confusion, but Official.”
Their latest scam alert — ostensibly intended to help residents — reads like the opening scene of a comedy sketch in which law enforcement accidentally scams itself. The message warns that scammers are spoofing the sheriff’s office phone number. Good to know. But then comes the punchline: “DO NOT call the Sheriff’s Office Number.”
Right. Because when someone impersonates your agency, the first rule of safety is apparently don’t contact the agency they’re impersonating.
Instead, residents are instructed to call some obscure detective-division number, buried under nine automated prompts, as if navigating a bureaucratic fun-house during an actual scam attempt is exactly what people need in a moment of panic. Nothing says “we’ve got your back” like a choose-your-own-adventure phone tree.
It would almost be impressive if it weren’t so predictable.
Because for many residents, this isn’t a one-off flub — it’s the sheriff’s office doing what it has perfected: turning every public communication into a reminder of its own credibility problem.
Let’s be honest: public trust didn’t just slip; it took a swan dive sometime around the 2022 missing-child alert fiasco, which lingered so long people wondered if the sheriff was using it as a screensaver. Then came the Lester Isbill homicide investigation — a case some residents still talk about with the same tone people reserve for unsolved mysteries and malfunctioning vending machines.
And who could forget the quick-trigger firing of Deputy Josh Woods after an off-duty DUI? A bold stance on discipline — if you ignore the fact that other personnel with far more serious controversies somehow landed on the magical cushion known as paid leave. The kind of selective response that really teaches the public one thing: consistency is… optional.
So now, when the sheriff’s office releases a “scam alert” that feels like a riddle wrapped in a puzzle wrapped in an automated menu system, the community reaction isn’t shock. It’s more like, “Ah yes, back to regular programming.”
The department seems determined to reassure residents that it is, in fact, not being impersonated — by doing a flawless impersonation of an agency that has no idea what it’s doing. These situations, viewed through the eyes of the community, paint a picture of an agency struggling to maintain its own legitimacy while simultaneously expecting residents to trust its guidance without hesitation.
Until then, every new alert they issue will continue to raise the same uncomfortable question:
Is this supposed to reassure us… or remind us how badly this office has lost the community’s trust?
Instead of providing clarity, the sheriff’s office has delivered yet another performance piece reminding everyone why trust continues to evaporate like mist on a hot sidewalk. The question practically writes itself:
How long can an agency keep asking for public confidence while demonstrating, over and over, that it can’t communicate a simple message without creating a new mess?