Two days after the fires, I spent many hours with my fiancée, brother and a friend riding through South Central Los Angeles. I wanted to see with my own eyes what I had up to that point been witnessing via my television screen. I remember being stunned by both the extent and patterning of the devastation. Liquor stores, banks, and Korean businesses were looted and/or burned to the ground. Many businesses were left untouched, “Black-owned” markers guarding them against harm. Building walls were pregnant with fresh graffiti: “Crips and Bloods Together Forever”; “LA Revolucion”; “Fuck Police”; “Blacks and Mexicans United.”

On the way home, we stopped at a South Central shopping center that had been looted, to help other volunteers clean up the debris. Out of the corner of my eye I caught an aging black man looking over the remains of a looted record store. As my fellow travelers and I approached with our brooms, the old man identified himself as the store owner. He pointed out how badly his business had been damaged, noting particular items that had been stolen. But then he turned to us with a nervous smile, “This is all material,” he said. “I'd sacrifice it all to help the black man rise.”

In just fourteen words the old man had rewritten news depictions of the events. How many others see it this way? I remember wondering. From what position or positions were viewers finding meaning in the flames that danced across their television screens? I would like to thank that old man for awakening me to the idea for this book.