Days of volatile immigration protests and demonstrations in downtown Los Angeles led to an 8 p.m. area curfew imposed this week by Mayor Karen Bass.
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But even with the local night time movement subdued, helicopters continued to roar overhead at all hours. Law enforcement vehicles blazed through streets en masse — blue and red headlights flashing, sirens piercing.
Demonstrators from other parts of the city and throughout the state still made their way into downtown during the day. They headed toward the federal complex where National Guard and Los Angeles police stood ready for action — along with large congregations of media personnel.
Now, in the communities adjacent to the government center — nearby neighborhoods like Little Tokyo — shops and businesses sit shuttered. Plywood panels cover their windows, and their owners either plan to close early or don’t even bother opening up.
It’s a new and yet familiar reality for those who live and work in downtown L.A. It’s also not clear when it will end, with large protests expected this weekend and troops stationed there indefinitely.
Here’s a look at how the week played out for protesters, shop owners and locals.
'It's hard to tell what's really going on'
At Apple’s Tower Theater store a mile and a half away from Alameda and Temple streets, a heavy wooden barricade now protects the large panoramic glass of the repurposed movie house. Usually abuzz with customers who can be seen from the street, the tech community gathering space sits empty and dormant.
Lisa H. drives into downtown from South Central three or four days a week for her work as a legal consultant. Through hypervigilant eyes, she scanned the sidewalks on the way to her Prius.
“I just hope everyone stays safe out here,” she said, reluctant to give her last name to a reporter. “It’s hard to tell what’s really going on right now. I think folks are coming here with the intention to just stir things up. Doesn’t this feel like it’s all being set up or staged?”
She remembers the 1992 Rodney King riots. “That really was civil unrest. This is something else.”
Meltem Karakova has lived downtown with her husband and toddler for three months.
“It seems safe right here in this neighborhood,” said Karakova, as she pushed her child in a stroller several blocks from the Apple store. “But the noise at night from all the sirens and helicopters gives me a bit of anxiety.”
Then she gestured in the direction of the federal buildings. “We don’t go over there where it gets crazy.”
LA businesses brace for recurring vandalism
Less than half a mile away in Little Tokyo, business owners said they lost customers and suffered vandalism through the days of protests.
“I’m a Japanese immigrant myself,” said Ryota Sakai, who runs a retail shop on 1st Street. “I have my green card, but I understand the stakes — what others must go through just to be here.”
Sakai said his sales have plummeted since last weekend’s protests. With hardly any retail traffic on Wednesday, he did not know whether he would open his doors again until things returned to normal. Still, he felt fortunate that his storefront had not been vandalized.
“I feel for my neighbors, all down this street and around me,” said Sakai. “The taggers hit their shops for no reason — just because we’re here, I guess. They broke some windows and lit fires, too.”
Joyce Leung has co-owned her clothing and accessories store on 1st Street since 2009. She said her business hasn’t experienced any vandalism or problems with protesters in the area over the years until Tuesday night, right after the curfew went into effect.
“We all hung around out front of our stores along this street, keeping an eye out together as a community until almost 11 p.m.,” said Leung. “But right after we locked up and went upstairs, we heard glass breaking.”
“Yeah, a truck pulled up and shot something at our front door window,” explained employee Sam Du. “I think it was like a BB or pellet gun.”
Du and Leung cleaned up all the shattered glass. A black curtain blew in the breeze as a makeshift cover, and behind the other glass door, a painted “Closed” sign sat propped on a chair.
Leung spoke about the last handful of days downtown compared to her previous experiences with protests and civil unrest, like the 2020 Black Lives Matter demonstrations:“This is bad, different,” she said. “It feels more violent. These people are so ballsy and brazen now.”
Du concurred. “We’ve never seen it like this before so close to home, right on our street,” he said. “A lot of these restaurants, our neighbors, had tent setups for outdoor dining, and protesters were turning them over to use as barricades. They used some as barriers and others they left burning.”
Leung said she plans to shut the store down until after what she described as riots subside — especially in consideration of this weekend’s expected “No kings” protests.
Demonstrators converge
Raul Gomez drives up from Torrance every day and sells large flags for $20 a pop — Mexico, California, the U.S., El Salvador, Venezuela, Honduras, etc. He stood with his cart on a corner right across the street from the federal buildings. He’s sold around 200 flags per day.
“It’s been a little quiet today,” Gomez said on Wednesday afternoon. “I’ll pack up and move as soon as I see trouble. Most folks are out here to be peaceful. These are my people, mi gente. But you can see the other kind coming a mile away. They’re just here to start shit.”
Six Los Angeles Police Department officers stood casually around parked cars on the opposite corner. “They never bother me,” said Gomez.
Grace Martinez and her 16-year-old daughter, Raylene, stopped by Gomez’s stand on their way to the federal building. Grace wanted to buy a flag that is split diagonally down the middle — half American stars and stripes, half Mexican green, white and red.
“We came to support our people — immigrants,” said Grace, who drove downtown from her suburban home 40 miles away. “My father came here from Mexico years ago. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here. So I’m very thankful and blessed for that, and I want to defend the people that can’t defend themselves.”
When asked how she feels about bricks being thrown at law enforcement and street vandalism all around the courthouse, Martinez said, “I’m a little nervous about it, but I’m trying to think positive that that’s not going to happen to us.”
Raylene said she’s ready. “Not everything’s gonna be peaceful. A lot of protests in L.A. from years and years ago weren’t all peaceful. Violence is never the answer, but violence gets more people to notice.”
She held a large “Who would Jesus deport?” sign she made herself.
Another demonstrator, J, didn’t want to give his full name. He’s been riding the Metro from South Los Angeles out to the downtown protest blocks with his 50/50 U.S./Mexico flag every day since Saturday. “The news — they kinda lie about everything, in my opinion,” said J. “There’s only like a few bad things that happen, but they make it like a big thing. We’re all being peaceful out here.”
With his flag draped over his shoulder, J bumped his fist against his chest as passing drivers honked their horns at him in support.
“The news makes it worse for us,” he said. “Respectfully, those guys over there and those guys down there,” he gestured toward LAPD officers grouped across the street and pointed at the National Guard soldiers farther down the block. “They make it worse for us.”
Joe Garcia is a California Local News fellow.
This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.