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Police Stopped Auditing Staff Internet Use. Then The Cases Started Appearing

Matthew Rogers has pleaded guilty to possessing an objectionable publication after an internal Police review uncovered a wider pattern of concerning internet use. The individual offending matters, but the more serious institutional question is why the systems designed to detect it had been allowed to weaken in the first place.

Matthew Rogers has pleaded guilty to possessing an objectionable publication after an internal Police review uncovered a wider pattern of concerning internet use. The individual offending matters, but the more serious institutional question is why the systems designed to detect it had been allowed to weaken in the first place.

Accountability, Policy

When Auckland police officer Matthew Rogers appeared in the Manukau District Court on Friday, he pleaded guilty to one representative charge of possessing an objectionable publication.  The charge covers offending between August 2023 and October 2025. Rogers had originally faced nine charges. Crown lawyer Kristy Li told the Court that the remaining eight would be withdrawn when Rogers is sentenced in October. His lawyer, Todd Simmonds KC, has indicated that Rogers may seek a discharge without conviction.


On its own, that is a straightforward crime story.  A police officer has admitted committing an offence under legislation that Police themselves are responsible for enforcing.  But Rogers did not come to the attention of investigators through an ordinary complaint or an unrelated criminal investigation.


His case emerged from something considerably more interesting.  Police started looking at themselves.


The Investigation That Followed McSkimming

The starting point was the downfall of former Deputy Police Commissioner Jevon McSkimming.  After concerning activity was discovered on McSkimming's work devices, the resulting investigation ultimately led to his guilty pleas to three representative charges involving child sexual exploitation and bestiality material. He was sentenced in December 2025 to nine months' home detention.


The scandal prompted Police to conduct a rapid review of their information-security controls.  What that review found should have attracted considerably more attention than it did.  In July 2025, Police Commissioner Richard Chambers announced that the review had identified weaknesses in monitoring, filtering and oversight of Police-owned devices.


Police said most user activity was logged and that a range of modern security controls existed. Nevertheless, the Commissioner was explicit about the review's conclusion:  the existing settings were "not robust enough" and required urgent attention.


More significantly, Chambers announced that Police would reintroduce audits of data and internet usage on Police devices.

Those audits had been halted four to five years earlier.


That fact matters. Not because it proves that continuing the old audits would necessarily have detected Rogers, McSkimming, or anyone else. Police later said the earlier internet usage reports themselves were relatively unsophisticated and could not identify attempts to access inappropriate material.


The significance is institutional.  Police had allowed an internal auditing process to cease, while operating an information environment in which some employees necessarily enjoyed unusual access to sensitive material, specialist systems and devices outside ordinary network controls.


It took the McSkimming scandal to force a serious reconsideration of whether those arrangements were adequate.  They were not.  That is Police's conclusion, not ours.


Then Police Started Finding Things

Once the review was underway, Police began strengthening monitoring.By November 2025, Police said its Executive Leadership Team had approved a 26-point remediation programme. Random audits had resumed, targeted monitoring was being introduced, website filtering was being reviewed, and exemptions from normal access controls were being subjected to stronger approval requirements.


And almost immediately, the new systems began producing results.


Police said that its improved monitoring and alerting had already identified a small number of cases involving misuse and inappropriate content that required further investigation.  By June this year, "a small number" had become something rather more substantial.


Police announced that it had investigated 22 cases arising from the rapid review.  Twelve had resulted in disciplinary action or performance management.  Four employees had resigned.  Three criminal investigations remained underway.

And three Police staff members were being prosecuted for multiple counts of possessing objectionable publications.

Rogers was one of those three.


Police said investigators from its National Integrity Unit had analysed a "significant volume" of web activity in reaching that point.


Now, one of those prosecutions has produced a guilty plea.  That makes it considerably harder to dismiss the review's findings as merely technical concerns about workplace internet policies.  At least some of what Police discovered crossed the line from inappropriate workplace behaviour into criminal offending.


The Problem Is Bigger Than One Officer

There is an understandable tendency when an institution encounters misconduct to individualise the problem.  An officer did something wrong.  An employee breached policy.  A manager exercised poor judgment.


The individual is investigated, disciplined, prosecuted or dismissed, and the organisation declares that the system has worked.  Sometimes that is true.  But accountability requires another question:


How long could the behaviour have continued if nobody had started looking?


Rogers' representative charge covers offending between August 2023 and October 2025.  Police's information-security review was launched only after the McSkimming affair exposed serious weaknesses in the organisation's controls.

The chronology does not establish that the absence of auditing enabled Rogers' offending. Nor does it establish that the previous auditing system would have detected it.


Those would be unjustified conclusions on the information presently available.  But it does establish something else.  Police discovered that their controls needed urgent strengthening. They strengthened them. The improved monitoring identified concerning behaviour. Investigations followed. Twenty-two cases were examined. Staff were disciplined, others resigned, and three officers ended up before the criminal courts.


That sequence demands scrutiny of the institution as well as the individuals.


Who Watches The Watchers?

There is an obvious irony here.  Police are not an ordinary employer deciding whether workers have been spending too much time on Facebook.  They are one of the principal state institutions responsible for investigating possession and distribution of objectionable publications.


The Films, Videos, and Publications Classification Act 1993 makes possession of an objectionable publication without lawful authority or excuse an offence. The legislation also provides more serious offences where possession occurs with the requisite knowledge or reasonable cause to believe that the publication is objectionable.


Police even maintain a dedicated Police Manual chapter dealing with objectionable publications.  There are perfectly legitimate reasons why some officers require access to material that would be utterly inappropriate for an ordinary employee.


Police acknowledged exactly that when explaining the review. Investigators and specialist staff may need broader internet access, unusual security settings or devices operating outside normal systems for legitimate operational reasons.  But that is an argument for better oversight, not less.


The greater the legitimate access an institution must give its employees, the greater the need for systems capable of distinguishing legitimate investigative activity from abuse.


After the McSkimming scandal, Police tightened the approval process for staff who receive exemptions from ordinary web controls. Those exemptions now require Assistant Commissioner or Executive Director level approval. Police also moved specialist devices onto enterprise networks where possible, allowing better logging, monitoring and alerting.  Those measures sound sensible.


The uncomfortable question is why it required a scandal involving one of the country's most senior police officers before the deficiencies attracted this level of attention.


Accountability Cannot Begin After Discovery

There is also a broader lesson in the recent succession of Police controversies.  Accountability is not merely the willingness to prosecute someone after misconduct becomes impossible to ignore.  It is the boring machinery that makes misconduct difficult to conceal in the first place:


  • Audits.

  • Logging.

  • Independent review.

  • Effective complaints procedures.

  • Proper supervision.

  • Separation of powers within investigations.

  • Rules governing conflicts of interest.


Systems that assume that people entrusted with authority remain people, rather than somehow becoming immune from temptation, dishonesty or criminal behaviour when issued an identification card.  


None of that is glamorous.  There are no dramatic raids involved in maintaining a competent audit system.  No "better work stories". No press conferences are required to ensure that suspicious activity is actually examined.


But this is exactly what institutional integrity looks like.  And Police's own figures provide a fairly compelling demonstration of why it matters.  Twenty-two cases investigated.  Twelve dealt with through disciplinary or performance processes.


Four resignations.


Three prosecutions.


Three further investigations still underway when Police gave its June update.  Those numbers emerged because somebody finally went looking.


Credit Where It Is Due

There is an important counterpoint.  Police deserve credit for actually conducting the review, referring potential criminal offending for investigation and prosecuting their own officers where investigators considered that justified.


Acting Deputy Commissioner Tim Anderson described prosecution of Police staff as a serious but important step and acknowledged the work of the National Integrity Unit.  That matters.  An organisation cannot reasonably promise that none of its thousands of employees will ever behave disgracefully.


The meaningful test is what happens when they do.  But genuine credit for cleaning up a problem does not erase legitimate questions about why the problem was permitted to become difficult to detect.  Both propositions can be true.


Police can deserve credit for the investigation and scrutiny for the controls that preceded it.  Accountability journalism should be capable of holding those two thoughts simultaneously.


The Rogers Case Is Not Over

Rogers will return to court for sentencing in October.  His lawyer has indicated that an application for a discharge without conviction may be made.


Importantly, the public reporting presently available does not establish that the material possessed by Rogers was the same type of material found in McSkimming's case or alleged against other officers arising from the review.  Those cases must not be conflated.


What is established is that Rogers has pleaded guilty to a representative charge of possessing an objectionable publication, covering offending over a period of more than two years.  And what is equally established is that his case emerged from an institutional review that Police themselves say exposed weaknesses requiring urgent remediation.


That is why this should not end as another story about a bad officer.  The more important question is whether New Zealand Police has finally built an integrity system capable of finding the next one before another scandal forces it to look.



Coming Next: Nine Charges Became One. What Happened To The Other Eight?

Matthew Rogers originally faced nine charges.  He has now pleaded guilty to one representative charge, with the Crown advising that the remaining eight charges will be withdrawn at sentencing.


That sounds dramatic.  But is it?  New Zealand criminal procedure expressly allows representative charges in cases involving multiple alleged offences of the same type committed in sufficiently similar circumstances. Courts can also divide, amend or amalgamate representative charges where the interests of justice require it.


So the disappearance of eight charges does not, by itself, establish leniency or preferential treatment.  But it does raise questions worth answering.


In our follow-up, The Justice Times will examine why nine charges became one, what a representative charge actually represents, what effect the withdrawals could have on sentencing, and whether defendants outside Police are treated the same way when multiple objectionable-publication charges are resolved.


Because before anyone concludes that eight charges simply vanished, it is worth finding out exactly where they went.

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Parker Van Lawrence

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This publication provides general commentary on law, policy and public life. It is not legal advice and should not be relied on as advice about any particular matter.

© 2026 The Justice Times. A Van Lawrence Publication.

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