New York: Black and Blue

The four white policemen had fired 41 bullets at the young African immigrant; 19 hit their mark. Prosecutors brought six alternative charges against each of the cops; none of them stuck--neither of the counts of murder, nor the two of manslaughter; not homicide, not reckless endangerment. On Friday, as TV cameras recorded the verdict in an Albany, N.Y., courtroom, the only words that registered were "not guilty," drummed out again and again, 24 times by the time the last defendant was fully cleared. About 140 miles to the south, in New York City, where the killing took place, where it was deemed too explosive to hold a trial, a cold, dull rain deepened the numbness brought on by the news. Anger could muster only brief marches through the Bronx neighborhood where the shooting occurred. One man raised his infant son in the air and pointed to the color of the child's skin. "Shoot him now!" But mostly it was momentary street theater; a demonstration the next day briefly tied up Manhattan traffic, but the shouting soon settled into foul, frustrated meditations on why so many bullets, why so little retribution. Still, the powers that be--or would be--watched warily and, for the most part, chose their words carefully.

In the courtroom, as the first "not guilty" sounded, the dead man's mother had allowed herself a measure of despair. Her shoulders slumped; her bearing, which had been formidable in the face of four weeks of graphic testimony, finally gave way. As the 24th verdict was uttered, she clutched her brother's hand. Then, with the court adjourned, Kadiatou Diallo walked out, tears streaming down her face, refusing to make eye contact with the four defendants and their families, who were giving themselves up to elation, hugging and making the sign of the cross. The Muslim woman, her ex-husband beside her, spoke calmly at a brief press conference, but her words had a touch more emotion when she got to the sanctuary of her hotel room. "No human being deserves to die like that," she told TIME as she imagined the last moments of her son Amadou. "Standing in front of your doorway where you live. Is that a crime? All he was doing was going home."

Last week disparate pieces fell together, locked in place, and, suddenly, abstract controversies were framed in a comprehensible melodrama: a mother's search for justice, a city's battle against crime, the skin colors of power and powerlessness, the politics of outrage, the ambitions of a First Lady and a mayor--as well as the men who would be President. With the numbing beat of 24 not-guilty verdicts, racial profiling, police brutality, the rights of minorities and the promises of the Constitution were funneled into a compelling narrative. A different but equally riveting tale is unfolding in Los Angeles, where last week the FBI joined a widening investigation into allegations that antigang cops acted like gangsters themselves--lying, stealing and shooting people with no cause. The arguments about the consequences of policing the police now have a clear dramatic arc; the debate can now be conducted in parables.