January 8th

 1


This was the day the first violence started.

I was brewing coffee - even in those days of waking up feeling that something was coming I needed my coffee - and I heard the crash. 

I turned around and saw the stone lying in the center of the room, the broken window. I felt like I was in a dream, walking to it, picking it up, turning it in my hand. I didn’t know what to do. It was the size of my fist. I looked out the hole in my window, where glass had been only seconds earlier and saw nobody… but someone had picked it up and thrown it.

I grabbed my phone and realized it was broken. I couldn’t call the police. I’d given up on landlines years ago. So I picked up my keys and got in the car to drive to the police station to make a report.


2


I saw more as I drove. A family of three - man, wife and young daughter were being dragged from their home. I only heard snippets but “Please, we are happy as we are” filtered into my car. I wanted to stop, to help the family but as I slowed I looked at the group of people. They just stared at me, sneering with their eyes. Marking me. I drove on. I didn’t know what to do other than continue on, marking the house in my mind to tell the police.

I want to sound like I was rational in that decision but I wasn’t. I was scared. I knew they were coming for me. I don’t know what happened to that family but I suspect it wasn’t good. I’ve seen what these people do.


3


I got to the police station and saw the crowd outside. I saw them breaking the windows, rushing through the doors. They didn’t even look at me, they were intent on the building. Some of the police were in the crowd, other police were trying to stop them.

That was when I saw the true actions of the mob. They dragged one cop onto the street - he was wearing a helmet but I could see he was a young person probably no older than 21 or 22. He was thrown to the ground and they pummeled him with baseball bats, bare hands. 

I kept driving but I couldn’t help looking back. I saw a spurt of blood and then one person standing up with that I at first thought was a club… then it bent at the elbow and I knew that someone had been torn apart.

The mob saw me then. And then stopped as one and stared at me. A group of five broke off and started running at my car. I slamming my foot on the gas pedal and sped away from them.


4


I drove straight on the road I was on for hours. Every now and then I saw more violence breaking out but I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t help, I knew it. Whatever it was, whatever I had felt in my bones that first day, it had started and I knew one person wasn’t going to stop it.

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