Beyond police lines, community and culture persist

On Saturday, I went to a riot and found myself at a quinceañera — a traditional coming-of-age celebration for girls in Latino culture.

- Joe Mathews

I wasn’t lost. I had headed to the LA County cities of Compton and Paramount to see the “riots and looters” that Donald Trump and his administration were talking about on social media. I know those communities well. I spent years covering them for the Los Angeles Times, and I have family history on Compton's east side: My great-grandparents are interred in the neighbourhood where the US government said that violent unrest was taking place.

But try as I might, I couldn't find any rioting.

Yes, Los Angeles County Sheriff's deputies were on Alondra Boulevard, along with some people who appeared to be federal agents. I concluded this because these days, US federal agents cover their faces, don’t produce identification, and won’t respond even when you ask them who they are. Living in a city of actors, I do recognise their method-style commitment to the neo-Gestapo role.

The sheriffs had two lines, protecting either side of the stretch of Alondra Boulevard that is home to Paramount's Home Depot. In that store’s parking lot, earlier in the day, the feds had swept up Californians the US government claims are undocumented immigrants. Some protestors had tried to block the arrested immigrants from being taken away.

To the east, sheriff's vehicles were confronting just a few protestors, pushing them back into the middle of Paramount. There was some yelling but little conflict or tension.

To the west, the law enforcement lines had crossed the Rubicon — well, the LA River and the 710 Freeway, which separate Paramount and Compton — and used vehicles and loud blasts to push back a small group of protesters.

By the time I got there, fewer than 100 people were protesting.