Spotlights stab down from rooftops. Concrete barriers and dump trucks the color of jail jumpsuits seal off streets. The crowd mills about, aimless but tense, angry but unsure what comes next. Soon there are shouts and flames, the courthouse's plywood shield begins to smolder. Sheriff's deputies with shields and fire extinguishers storm out, shooting pepper balls as they spread out. Suddenly the pulsating anger of the crowd has a target and water bottles fly through the air, the thud of their impact on riot shields serving as a counterpoint to the pops from the pepper ball guns.
Speakers blast from the surrounding rooftops, declaring an unlawful assembly and ordering us to disperse. Smoke rises as more fires start, trash cans turned into torches of discontent. Soon flashbangs are added to the cacophony of the crowd, sharp and harsh explosions that are felt as much as heard. Tear gas is fired into the streets surrounding us as the crowd spontaneously coalesces into a march, corralled towards 6th street by the concussion of the flashbangs continuing to go off all around.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, fuck 12!" rings out as we pass national guard in a parking garage behind chainlink fence and "Three percenters on the right!" as we pass militia lurking in a park. More an effort to get away from the police and the trap that is downtown than actual demonstration, the march turns onto Broadway. Without warning the sound of an engine revving cuts through the night and then a white SUV drives into the crowd. It mounts the curb at one point and either clips or narrowly misses several people before it is brought to a halt half a block down the street.
Up ahead the street has been completely blocked by police cruisers, their lights reflecting off the surrounding buildings, giving a hellish blue and red cast to everything. In the distance more cruisers sirens wail as they move down side streets to try and get ahead of us. The crowd turns onto 4th Street, the only way not already blocked by police and heads south. The buzz of the drone and the beating of the helicopter rotors are omnipresent as they hover and circle overhead, adding their spotlights to the apocalyptic lightshow washing over us.
Another block covered as vehicles with flashing reds and blues speed into the intersection ahead, another turn onto a side street and once again the intersection ahead is swarmed by police. Calling this a march at this point seems disingenuous, there were no leaders or goals aside from getting away from the flashing lights. No panic, just a sense of being on an inevitable collision course with those flashing lights circling ever closer, and an expectation of the ensuing conflagration that would result.
Alley is the only outlet left and we make for it, not quite running but nobody moving slow. Cohesion is lost, cutting through parking lots and gaps, groups of people make their way east as best they can. The chaos seems to confuse the cops for a moment, the crowd coalesces again as the cordon is left behind.
Converging around 1st and College we continue east. A block to our north Broadway is a sea of flashing lights, we are cut off from downtown. Gunshots ring out, 5 or 6 in rapid succession, a collective bracing for return fire that thankfully does not come, and then flashbangs as the crowd scatters. Dribs and drabs, moving through the shadows and down side streets, making their way in any direction that is away from the shots and explosions, dodging SWAT teams and speeding cruisers.
For many the night drew to a close at a nearby church, open and offering sanctuary, shelter, and supplies to all in need on that chaotic night. The events described above took place in less than 45 minutes according to the timestamps on my photos but I have trouble believing that, with the chaos and adrenaline every minute was and hour and that night seemed never-ending.