The Founders' Plot

But the most frightening incident occurred just before the National Guard arrived to help police restore order. Nearly 200 protesters carrying sticks, baseball bats, bricks, and other weapons approached a high-end area of downtown Los Angeles. In front of them were fifty police officers in riot gear. Mike watched, mesmerized, as the mob neared the police lines, ignoring the bullhorn orders from the police to stop and disperse.

The police fired tear gas, but it landed in the rear of the crowd and those at the front of the mob charged forward. It seemed nothing could stop them —as if this thin blue line couldn’t hold. The mob was fifty yards from the police line when the officers drew their sidearms.

Mike’s throat locked, and his mouth went dry. “Good God,” he said aloud, “don’t let it come to this.”

He stared trancelike at the TV as the police raised their weapons to their shoulders, pointed straight up. But the rioters continued toward them. Mike almost squeezed his eyes shut as the police pointed their guns at the crowd. They took aim, but the crowd kept coming.

Police shouted orders.

Then gunshots. Two volleys.

Above the rioters’ heads.

The crowd stopped. Again, police on bullhorns told them to disperse. For a few tense minutes, the rioters mingled, seemingly confused and unsure what to do. Then, gradually, the crowd began breaking up. Mike’s head dropped, and he let out an explosive sigh of relief.