@Viana_Brown: No officer with a shred of humanity would fire into a crowd of peaceful protestors. #Underhill

@WhitePowerCord: Then maybe private citizens need to take matters into our own hands. You’ll see us up close tomorrow. #WhiteOut #MakeItKnown

@KelvinX_: Tear gas goin up! Say your prayers and make your stand, Underhill. #UnderhillRiot

DAY SIXTEEN:

TORCHES AND TERROR

PEACH STREET

This street stretches to the other side of town. Bends and curves with the whims of the city. Feel the ripple effect? We are all connected, pebble by pebble, block by block. One smooth double yellow line.

When the torches light up across town, people feel the ripple effect in Underhill. The street shivers in the light of the flames, and the city stands up to take notice.

WITNESS

You try to explain to your daughters what it means to be hated. They do not understand.

There are bows in their hair. As they look up at you, their eyes bear everything fragile in the world.

They do not understand. You pray they won’t ever.

It is hard to say the word “hate” in their presence. It is impossible to convince them they are any less than loved. They feel safe and happy. You want to be proud of yourself for gifting them peace, but you are fearful of their naïveté. Their small hands hold yours. They can see that you are sad.

They do not understand. Today, you are the scary one, telling tales of a nation out to get them. You squeeze their little knees and promise to protect them. Try to forget that it is out of your hands.

There are bows in their hair. Placed by their mother’s swift and gentle hands. The strongest hands you’ve ever known.

STEVE CONNERS

Every news outlet carries the footage of the White Out protest. Neo-Nazis and their families stand in Griffith Park. I can almost see it from here, but not quite. Out my window, down at the street level, the city looks peaceful. The corner of the park I can see is not the part with the bandstand. It’s not that I want to see it firsthand. Not exactly. It’s more about how unsettling it is to have it happening out there, out of sight.

John strolls into my office. I’m leaning back in my chair, online footage running on-screen. It relates to my job, so I don’t bother to mute the screen or punch it off.

“You’re watching this?” I ask. He’s here to discuss the Henderson account, no doubt. It’s what I should be thinking about. How this white power demonstration relates, how we should react. Instead, my mind is scattered.

“The full storm hasn’t hit the media yet,” John says.

“How so?”