craven

"Because we were part of the press, bearing witness to what was happening, we initially assumed that we couldn't possibly be the intended targets."

The crowd was peaceful, chanting and cheering, some with megaphones, when the police stepped toward the demonstration, abruptly fired flash bangs, moved in on horseback, and started shooting.

A Black man in his 20s next to me was shot in the arm by something, and another demonstrator moved him to cover behind a street pole, pulled out a medical kit, and bandaged the bloody welt. Demonstrators and journalists were trampled in the street by horses as they tried to get out of the way of the advancing officers.

Even as police moved in and escalated, the protesters did not become violent. The most aggression I saw was one man who lobbed an open Four Loko can at a deputy sheriff. He was immediately shot, tackled, and taken away.

...

I was flanked by veteran photographers from Getty, AFP, and The Associated Press, all of whom were experienced in covering protests and civil unrest around the world. Some were even finalists for the Pulitzer Prize. No one told us to move or gave us any orders. The street crackled with a heavy, charged stillness.

In that lull, one member of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's riot squad, the SRT, lifted his weapon and fired a barrage of PepperBalls in our direction. These paintball-sized projectiles have a hard plastic shell that shatters upon impact, releasing a cloud of powdered pepper spray designed to cause gagging, burning, and extreme discomfort. It spreads a dozen feet from the impact site and lingers in the air for up to 15 minutes.

It took a few seconds for us to appreciate that this officer was apparently shooting at us on purpose. We looked around in confusion. Were we between some violent agitator and the sheriff that we had not seen? Because we were part of the press, bearing witness to what was happening, we initially assumed that we couldn't possibly be the intended targets. I looked at the photographer to my right, and we laughed at the absurdity when we realized what was happening.

The deputy aimed low, and the balls hit our calves and ankles or exploded on the pavement into white puffs of powder around us. It was their way of pepper-spraying us from a distance. I flashed back to being shot at with roman candles on the Fourth of July as a kid, and I danced to safety in the same way I had all those years ago - the smoke stinging my eyes, and sparks stinging my feet. It was the first time I had been pepper-sprayed outside of my high school martial arts class.

We scurried down the street, but not far or fast enough for the cop who fired a second volley to push us further back. The other SRT members stood by unfazed, dressed in their khaki uniform shirts and mismatched black sneakers, their face shields tipped up on their tactical helmets, so I could clearly see their impassive faces.

Within 15 minutes, police had kettled the street, closing in from both sides, trapping everyone - protesters and people who were just out walking in the area. As the sky grew dark, they announced that everyone currently on the block would be arrested and that they were not free to go. One woman, who appeared to be around 30, cried and tried to reason with the police. She stated that she was a city employee and was not involved in the protest. She told them she was just walking by when the cops closed in, but the officers would not let her leave. Another woman in her 60s, who appeared to be just out on the street at the wrong time, wept quietly. Members of the National Lawyers Guild - volunteer legal observers who attend protests and represent the rights of demonstrators - called the group together to explain their rights and what would happen next. The 8 p.m. curfew was still 20 minutes away.