A town in flames

Joe Mendoza opened a front door of his house and walked into to foyer. "Honey, I'm home!" "Baby", he heard her voice from the kitchen, "We are low on milk. Do you mind running into town and grabbing a couple of gallons?" Even though he was tired, he didn't mind at all. "Sure, I will be back in 15 minutes."

What they called a "town" was a tiny suburban village, about a 10 minute walk from their house. Mendoza's neighborhood was solidly middle class, situated in a different jurisdiction. The neighbors were working people, mostly white collar with a bunch of retirees and blue collar workers mixed in. But the "town" - the "town" was a different story. The folks there came from the old money and the cheapest home cost in the millions. Exuberant property taxes and high cost of living ensured that no "riff-raff" would ever get a foothold within its borders.

The "town" had a nice business district, with restaurants, cafes and boutique stores that attracted people from all over the suburbs. Some even came from the Big City to spend time in its fine dining establishments. The streets were always full of people shopping, dining at outdoor tables and just walking around. Many were students from two nearby major liberal arts colleges.

There was a huge police force for such a tiny place - 20 police officers were on the "town's" payroll. Working in shifts, they constantly patrolled the streets of the business district. They did not tolerate any nonsense, be it a group of drunk college kids, an occasional beggar, or a suspicious vehicle driving through at night - all were approached, stopped and then warned, ticketed or arrested, depending on the severity of the offence. The wealthy residents were not to be bothered, and the cops knew it. Their lucrative bonuses and promotions depended on keeping the residents happy and safe.

It was a beautiful September day. The colleges just started the fall semester, and the bars and cafes were overflowing with young people. Joe went around the streets looking for parking. He finally found a spot about a block away from the local supermarket. Not too bad. He got out and threw a quarter into the meter.

When he turned around, he saw something that he almost never saw in the "town" - a large group of black teenagers were running down the sidewalk. About 20 yards from where Joe was standing, a couple of them stopped. It was a storefront of an exclusive sneaker store. Joe watched in amazement and shock as one kid took out a hammer from his backpack and smashed the window. The rest of the teens, about 15 of them, swarmed the shelves, grabbing the shoes and stuffing them into garbage bags that they took out of their backpacks. Some ran into the store, shoving a female clerk to the ground, and taking the merchandise. In seconds, the store was cleaned out.

"Holy crap, it's one of those flash mobs", Joe said to himself. He didn't want to be in the middle of this and went back into the car. As he closed the door, he saw two police vehicles flying down the street with sirens on. One cop car jumped the curb and blocked the sidewalk in front of the marauding group. A young cop got out and grabbed one of the teenagers by the shirt collar. The kid was big and strong, and the momentum knocked them both over. Another kid running behind them jumped on top of the cop trying to liberate his friend. He grabbed the cop in a chokehold from behind. Joe knew he needed to help. As he got out of the vehicle, he saw the teenager let go of the policeman and drop on the ground. To Joe's left there was an officer with his gun out. A slight blue smoke was coming out of the barrel.

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A town in flames