And the crowd surges, a giant wave of bodies cresting toward a group of counter-protestors.

And then one of the marchers is scaling the police barricade. And he's almost to the top when he's pulled back by a cop and flattened to the ground, his arms twisted behind his back. And a baton is raised.

 

And I think of the sergeant back home. I think about his baton. And the day he used it to beat me good enough to land me in the hospital. And images from the riots in L.A. flash through my head. Storefront windows smashed in. Burning buildings. Hundreds of little fires. And the people in the streets. On the freeways blocking traffic. Pulling people from their cars. And the anger on their faces. The rage. And suddenly, I can't breathe.

Hey, Jay! Are you alright?

Like no matter how hard I try to, I can't. There ain't no air.

Jay, man, what's wrong?

And before I even realize it, I'm telling Scooter I have to go. And I'm pushing through the crowd, still yelling at the cops, and then I'm at the payphone I'd seen earlier outside the subway station and I slip a quarter into the machine and it starts to ring and then

Hello?

Mom?

Jay? Baby, who's number is this? Where are you?

At a protest, ma.

A protest.

Yeah. For Rodney King.

Well, are you okay? Did something happen?

I'm fine. Or, well... I don't know. It's just... I was there in the square and things sorta... Well, they sorta escalated for a moment and all I could think about was the sergeant back home and the way he looked at me and his baton and the hospital and the tube in my nose and I froze, mama. Right there on the street I just...

Baby...

I left. I just left.

 

Well, good.

 

No, not good! Ain't nobody else do that. Ain't nobody else run away!

Jay...

I'm the only one out of everybody. Out of hundreds. Run away from a peaceful protest... Mama, what's wrong with me?

Jay, there ain't nothing wrong with you. Nothing.

You have to say that. You're my mom.

That's exactly why I don't have to say it.