Abstract

This essay looks backward twenty years to the days of violence that erupted in Los Angeles, California, on April 29, 1992, following the acquittal of four white police officers charged with brutally assaulting Rodney King, a black motorist. On that day, I was working as a rookie reporter for the Los Angeles Times’ Orange County Edition. In the following das, I was reassigned to the City Desk, and a year later, was among the team of reporters and photographers awarded the Pulitzer Prize for spot news reporting. Far from the imaginary objective reporter, I was terrified to see my hometown erupting in violence and flames. My older sister, an assignment editor at the Korea Times Weekly English Edition, far-along pregnant with her third child, had fled her office due to threat of mob violence. My father could smell the burning buildings from his apartment and my brother-in-law lost his job when the store where he worked was burned down. In the following weeks, I attended political rallies held by Korean Americ...

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