by Lauris Freeman
Often in conversations with friends I find myself championing the arts as one of many viable pathways for the conversion of the Savage (the world as it exists) to the Civilized Man (the world as it's supposed to be). Simply stated, one should feel less inclined to go out and strike one's neighbor when Pops, Billie, Bird or B.B. is on the Victrola. Music not your thing? Substitute a sunrise, an up-close view of the Pyramids or the Sistine Chapel, a lover's scent, a prayer, favorite poem or cherished work of art. As the theory goes, when under the opiate-like influence of one's own sparkling humanity one eschews all violent thoughts and becomes, in the words of the poet-scholar Aristotle, "the noblest of all animals". Or so the theory goes.
One can only imagine what 44-year-old Angeleno Winston Hayes was listening to when he decided to celebrate Mother's Day by getting high, hopping in his white Chevy Tahoe, cranking up the beats and taking a few laps around his neighborhood, but I'm fairly sure it wasn't Charlie Parker. And whatever the impetus, I'm sure he couldn't of imagined - or maybe just we couldn't - that his joyride would end up in a point blank, fusillade of bullets. 13 minute chase. 10 deputies. 120 rounds expended. For those doing the math, that's roughly 12 rounds per deputy, or the full load and then some from their standard department-issue Beretta's. It is in fact an ending so unfathomable to most that it left this writer wondering if maybe the entire city has gone stark raving mad.
When LA police chief William Bratton first saw images from the video, the first though racing through his mind had to be "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, thank God it wasn't' the LAPD. In a city that regularly showcases late night car chases (usually right before Leno) public misconduct and other urban civil disturbance as if the participants were all competing for cash prizes, this was just the latest in a string of PR no-win's for both LA law enforcement and the feckless citizenry they are sworn to protect. Perhaps the LA Tourism Board's brochure would read something like this -- "L.A.: Come chase your dreams -- just don't get chased on the wrong street in the wrong neighborhood by the wrong understaffed, undertrained police. Bienvenidos!"
I can remember exactly where I was when I first saw the Rodney King video. It was on the floor of the apartment of a childhood friend who at the time was attending Cal State Northridge (I was at UCLA). After a typical night of studies followed by music appreciation -- Ray Charles, 'Trane and Miles, I think, were the guest instructors that night -- then altering our body chemistries with various legal imbibements and some organically grown substances, we flipped on the news and watched a videotape of at least four uniformed Los Angeles police officers (ironically one of them, a black officer, was also a childhood friend, unbeknownst to me until some years later) play whack-a-mole on another intoxicated citizen. It was enough for a city permanently on edge to explode in a fireball of retribution, the memories of which have only now begun to recede under the still-smoldering ashes of the city.
Almost 15 years later some would say the root of it all - law enforcement's justifiable use of deadly force vs. Joe Citizen's right to not catch a bullet - is the root of it all. Maybe. Maybe not. In 1997 40-year-old Angeleno Darryl "Chubby" Hood (black) was shot 7 times and killed by police officers (of multiple ethnicities, by the way) at the Jordan Downs housing projects in Watts in the presence of several witnesses. An attempt to use a non-lethal stun gun reportedly failed due to a failure to charge its batteries. In 1999, Margaret Mitchell, a 55-year old, 5-ft, 102 lb. homeless Angeleno (black) was shot and killed near downtown while attempting to assault a 27-year old (white) male officer with a screwdriver. In October 2000, 27-year old (black) police officer Tarriel Hopper, responding to a neighbor's noise complaint, shot 39-year-old actor Anthony Dwain Lee 9 (also black) 9 times at a Halloween party in Benedict Canyon, apparently mistaking Lee's toy plastic handgun for the real deal. In February of this year, 13-year old Angeleno Devin Brown was shot and killed by an LAPD officer after Brown backed the car he and a friend reportedly stole into the path of the officer. 10 rounds were said to be fired. Brown won't make 14. Has the mere sight of black skin and with it everything that's been sold to us - minstrel, urban super-gangster, mandingo, junkie, angry black female et. al -- become such self-fulfilling prophecy as to elevate all confrontations into lethal ones?
As typical when incidents like these befall the city, a who's who of pundits, activists and apologists will appear to argue their sides of the issue. Law enforcement will band together, as one would expect they should, then offer themselves up to various boards of inquiry and review as they prepare for relocation to places like St. Paul, Great Falls, Coconut Grove or maybe Cincinnati. Conservatives will speak of godless liberal know-it-alls run amok and the general population's ignorance of police force tactical procedure. Liberals will speak of civil rights, racism, sexism, facism or whatever suits their particular agenda. Elected officials will jockey for position, offices held will be lost (those gained, I assume, will be decorated) trust handed over, alliances formed. But when all the smoke and cordite clears, opportunities dry up and the damage of stray bullets is covered, repaired and forgotten one can't help but wonder where it leaves all of us, staring right back into the void.
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