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Wednesday, January 20, 2021, 1:30 PM Eastern Standard Time
The bearded young man had gotten separated from the 2021 BLM/Poor People’s March when police had hit them with tear gas and then charged, but that did not particularly bother him, since he had come here on his own.
He was coughing and choking and disoriented when a law enforcement officer in camouflage without insignia swung his billy club, connected with his skull, and left him lying on the Mall. He was crawling away when a surge of “Proud Doorknob Lickers” swept over him, some of them kicking him. Some carried Confederate battle flags; others wore swastikas or other Nazi symbols; still others wore Hawaiian shirts. He looked up and read the signs and tee shirts.
“SUPPORT THE PRESIDENT OR HE’LL COUGH ON YOU”
“BIG IGLOO – BOOGALOO CIVIL WAR II”
“PROUD BOYS – WE STOOD BY – NOW WE ARE NOT STANDING BACK”
“WE KILL ANTIFA”
As he was trying to get his bearings again, from the opposite direction, a line of black-clad rioters counterattacked, swinging sticks. They carried no signs or flags. The line passed over him as the “Doorknob-Lickers” retreated.
One of the black-masked rioters lifted his face mask and sneered at him. “What are you looking at, loser?”
Another grabbed the first rioter and yelled, “Cover your face, Sal, you dumbass! Don’t you know what ‘false flag’ means? Besides, we have orders to get over and burn some shops before 2.”
The first “Antifa,” a dark-complected white man, looked down at the bearded young man with hate. The bearded man looked up at him wonderingly. Sal aimed one of his black boots, and kicked the man’s head as if he were attempting a fifty-yard field goal.
Fifteen minutes later, as the bearded man came to, he saw an elderly African- American woman leaning over him.
“Are you all right, honey?” she said.
He tried to respond, but instead his eyes rolled back in his head, his body stiffened, and he began to shake uncontrollably.
The woman melted away, and when he had come to again, some District of Columbia police were hauling him to his feet.
“What’s your name?” one cop said.
He simply stared at him.
“Is he drunk?” the other cop said.
“I don’t know. Are you drunk?” the first cop said to him.
He tried to speak, but instead got dizzy.
“I think we load him in the van with the others,” the first cop said. “I think he’s for St. E.’s.”
“Okay,” said the second cop. “Thanks for volunteering.”
“Fuck you,” the first cop said. “He’s drooling on me now.”
“This is your chance to protect and serve, mofo,” the second cop said. “Remember what it says on our cruisers, ‘We Are Here to Help.’”
“Okay, where’s that van?” the first officer said.
He began to half-drag, half-carry the woozy bearded man toward the nearest police van.
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian