L.A. Lawless

IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WAS RIGHTEOUS indignation. Just three hours after the King verdict was announced, thousands of shocked black residents of South Central Los Angeles gathered at the First African Methodist Episcopal Church. Speaker after speaker denounced the injustice and alienation that are part of their everyday life. Each community leader acknowledged that institutions designed to protect law-abiding citizens had failed them this time, but still some appealed for calm. "Look beside you," said Los Angeles city council member Mark Ridley-Thomas. "These young African Americans are not in the streets."

But it was already too late. By the time the two-hour meeting broke up, the first fires had been set. As weary parishioners left the prayer meeting, some were shot at by rioting thugs. "Nothing you're talking about is going to do any good," one young man told the departing crowd. "Come with us -- let's burn."

Most of the destruction was limited to the depressed South Central area, a 46-sq.-mi. part of town plagued by gangs, poverty and the drug-dealing criminals who dominate life there. Not surprisingly, it was the besieged black community that suffered the most. In a bid to protect their businesses from the rioters' wrath, a number of shopkeepers desperately posted signs declaring that their stores were BLACK OWNED. In many cases, the signs were ignored by looters and arsonists who destroyed the shops anyway.

For more than 48 hours, an urban nightmare came true as hatred ruled the streets. During that time, parts of the city virtually ceased to function. Hundreds of thousands of citizens were sent home from schools, offices and public facilities. On orders from city hall, all professional sporting events were suspended until after the weekend; N.B.A. play-off matches involving the Clippers and the Lakers were rescheduled, as were baseball games at Dodger Stadium and Thoroughbred races at Hollywood Park.

Almost immediately after the rioters took to the streets, Angelenos experienced the brutality of mob rule. At 6:30 Wednesday evening, an airborne television camera captured the beating of Reginald Denny, a white truck driver who made the mistake of stopping at a red light in the neighborhood where the first riot erupted. At least five black men pulled Denny from his sand truck, bashed him with the vehicle's fire extinguisher, punched him and stole his wallet. Another fired a shotgun into him at close range. As a blood-soaked Denny called for help, he was hit with beer bottles and karate-kicked in the head. The whole macabre scene, like a mirror-image replay of the King beating, was broadcast live on a local TV station. Denny was eventually rescued by four black bystanders and taken to a hospital, where he underwent four hours of brain surgery.