Every day, across Florida, people see things their government is doing that they find objectionable, even outrageous.

It could be a new site for a homeless shelter near their kids’ school. A law that puts new and burdensome restrictions on people who want to register to vote. A court decision that allows people to carry guns into places they weren’t previously welcome. A vote to spend millions on a lavish new city hall.

Or an announcement that wildlife officials are planning a statewide slaughter of black bears.

There’s no denying that rhetoric over the bear hunt, which was approved by the state Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission last summer, boiled over. Some social media posts drew hundreds of responses. Public meetings were surrounded by people waving signs with photos of bloody bear carcasses.

In the face of this kind of criticism, some officials become just as scathing in response. That’s OK. What’s not OK: Using the investigative power of the FWC to dig through confidential records and hint at the potential of criminal prosecutions for people who have committed no crime. Then, instead of admitting wrongdoing when news of the surveillance came to light, the FWC doubled down, releasing a page of cutouts of social media posts, stripped of context and identity.

Many of the people targeted, including Central Florida activists Chuck O’Neal and Katrina Shadix, say they never posted any threats against FWC officials and were stunned to learn that agency employees rifled through their driving records and possibly other data. As the Sentinel’s Jeff Schweers reported, Brent Fanin received an anonymous email telling him the FWC “was watching me and knew where I lived.”

Rarely isolated

Here’s the most chilling thing about the information Schweers uncovered. This kind of abuse of power is almost never a one-time event. Because this particular agency is now suspected of abusing its law-enforcement authority, other agencies with police powers could face questions as well.

Because the FWC has been caught doing this once, it’s also now reasonable to suspect that the agency has done it before. That’s already been alleged, in fact: Taylor County Property Appraiser Shawna Beach has filed a lawsuit against the FWC, claiming that the agency accessed confidential driving records of herself and her husband.

This is not the way democracy is supposed to work, no matter how loud and messy it gets.

Yes, people get so angry that their emotions spill over. They take to social media — either on their personal accounts or through anonymous usernames — with posts that radiate belligerence. Sometimes those posts take on overtones of violence. And let us be clear: There is no excuse for harassing public officials with threats against their safety or their families.

But we should also be realistic. Once you dig through the obscenities and insults, the vast majority of rage posts are easily recognizable as empty threats.

The specter of surveillance

That’s not the case when the threats run in the opposite direction. Government officials have vast and powerful tools at their disposal, including access to databases that contain deeply personal information such as health records or financial details. Increasingly, Floridians are living their lives in a state of surveillance, tracked by license-plate readers, cell-phone data and cameras owned by private businesses who readily surrender footage when a law-enforcement agency requests it.

We live our lives unhindered by paranoia because we trust that those resources will not be abused.

What happened here?

At this point, the FWC has produced no evidence that it was investigating any actual crimes, or even threats to commit crimes. A look at the list of posts it produced last week are undeniably ugly. But it’s hard to take them as genuine threats.

Sen. Carlos Guillermo Smith, D-Orlando, has requested an official probe of FWC’s actions by the state Office of Inspector General. That investigation is sorely needed. But it must be followed with a deep dive to detect other abuses. It’s a big job, but doable: Most confidential state databases generate logs showing who accessed them, and when.

Then the Legislature must act, looking for ways to keep state employees from abusing their power in pursuit of a political or vengeful agenda.

This is the best way to safeguard the thousands of government employees across Florida who do important, often sensitive work and would never dream of misusing their access to personal data. Far more important, it’s the only way to reassure the public that they won’t become the targets of intensive, intrusive investigation just because they got angry, and exercised their right of free speech to say so.

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