May 1992: Part I

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"We the jury in the above entitled action, find the defendant, Laurence M. Powell, NOT GUILTY of the crime of assault by force likely to produce great bodily injury and with a deadly weapon."

"NOT GUILTY."

"NOT GUILTY."

"NOT GUILTY."

Ever since the riots broke out, I had my hands full at the church. The phone was constantly ringing off the hook with pleas for help and requests for the Pastor's presence. The calendar was full, with multiple meetings filling each little square. Day in, day out, I had to greet visitors and express my condolences. After a couple of weeks, I was getting overwhelmed and hadn't really thought about anything besides work. Additionally, Mom and Mr. Hernandez barely let me out of their sight. Mr. Hernandez would always drop me off or pick me up from any destination. I'd barely gotten a chance to see Dianne or have any kind of fun or relaxation.

The sky was hazy for days, more than it usually was. And the air constantly smelled of smoke. I had to cover my face to keep from inhaling the ash. I felt as if I was living in hell on Earth. Los Angeles was a warzone. Most of the businesses nearby were covered in wooden planks, and some had completely burned down. There was trash blowing through the streets and shattered glass everywhere.

I was blessed that my home and workplace were unscathed. However, the church was boarded up for safety. I wanted to stay home, but my parents and the Pastor insisted I go in because my service to the community was needed.

I wasn't completely sure what was going on. All I did know was that an act of violence against a Black man was captured on camera... yet his assailants were found "not guilty."

Mom and Mr. Hernandez said he was "resisting arrest." I asked, "But did they need to do all that?"

Neither one of my parents could answer. I don't think the Pastor could answer either. I felt that he was unsure, confused by the burning city around us.

One day, the phone line had calmed down for a bit, so I sat quietly, taking in the rare moment of peace. As soon as I closed my eyes, the phone rang once more. I inhaled deeply and gave a monstrous exhale. I didn't know if I could handle more human interaction.

"This is Our Lady of Guadalupe. How may I serve you today?"

A familiar voice started laughing on the other line.

"I am looking for my best friend, who I haven't seen in a while."

"Dianne? Why are you calling here?"

"I was trying to get a hold of you. I miss you."

When she said that, I felt really bad. I missed Dianne so much, but my work had swallowed up all of my free time, and all of my emotional energy. Also, there was a curfew for a few days, and Los Angeles had been plunged into a state of emergency.

"Hey, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it's alright. These are crazy times. Are you OK?"

"Not exactly. I don't know what to make of anything. There was camera evidence that the police were wrong. I don't understand. I don't. The church has been busy nonstop, and my parents won't let me out of their sight."

Dianne sighed heavily.

"Yeah, I know. The whole situation is fucked up. I get why people are mad. I really do, but all those innocent people..."

"I wonder what's going to happen now," I said.

After that, we both sat on the phone, silent.

"There's something still coming up we wanted to go to," Dianne stated, breaking the silence.

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