We are forgetting the true victims of Los Angeles
/The Boston Herald
Beverly Beckham
Newsweek's cover story this week is about the riots in Los Angeles. There's a two-page picture-spread of the city's destroyed buildings. A couple of pages are dedicated to political analysis. There's a section on race and crime, a page about the ethnic diversity of L.A., a page about welfare, a page highlighting George Bush, another homing in on Peter Ueberroth and three pages which, in Newsweek's own words, offer a "close-up look at life and death on one city block."
Ending the piece, on the final page, is a list of the names and the races of the 54 men, women and children killed in the riots. At the top right corner there's a color photo of DeAndre Harrison, 17, dressed in a white suit, his hands folded in front of him, lying in his coffin.
My eyes linger on this page. My brain says I should be grateful to Newsweek for even remembering the dead. I have seen no lists anywhere else. The casualties of this war have been ignored.
But my heart looks at the names, at all those lives, all those futures, corpses now, all on one page, and the list is too neat, the histories too short, the remembrance too small, for so much pain.
"Louis Watson, 18. Black. The riot's first victim wanted to be an artist. He was killed by a random shot while walking a friend to a bus stop.
"Dwight Taylor, 42. Black. The ex-college basketball player was on his way to buy milk when killed by gunfire.
"Arturo Miranda, 20. Hispanic. A stray shot killed himas he drove home from soccer practice.
"Edward Travens. White. Shot in a drive-by attack."
Years have been reduced to seconds, entire lives summed up in sentences. All of this country's handwringing and breast-beating and outrage and horror and tears have been for THINGS lost in the riots, not for people.
Look at the businesses destroyed. See the burning buildings. Watch those rioters. Can you believe that poor woman's dry-cleaning business is gone? Isn't it terrible about Frederick's of Hollywood? Do you know how much it's going to cost to rebuild the city? Did you see what they did to that truck driver? These are words being said.
A solitary truck driver who survived his assault is the only person we have come to know.
What about all the dead?
"George Sosa, 20. Hispanic. Shot in the chest. Jose Garcia Jr. Hispanic. Shot in the back. DeAndre Harrison, 17. Black. Shot in the chest."
Who were these people?
It's such a small number, 54, compared with the billions of dollars this riot cost. But the 54 were flesh and blood.
Children. Mothers. Fathers. Daughters. Sons. People with lives, families, dreams. The loss of them is huge. They cannot be rebuilt. They cannot be restored. All the federal dollars in the world can't bring them back. They are irreplaceable. Where are the tears and the keening for them?
Why are we so focused on buildings and things instead of human life?
I imagine people I know. I insert their names in the place of these strangers. I need to do this. I need to feel because if I don't, I'm afraid I am going to stop feeling.
Because it all seems so normal. Bloody bodies on American streets. American troops on the Boulevard of Stars. Children looting. Merchants shooting. Mobs plundering and pummeling.
Faces twisted with hate. In this country. In our civilized world.
"At least we got their attention," one woman said after the conflagration.
Yes, L.A. has the world's attention. People are talking about race relationships and rage and centuries of discrimination, and money is finally pouring into the city, and new businesses are being planned to replace the old.
Life goes on.
Except for 54 people caught in a war that has been reduced to politics and posturing and profit.
