LITTLE ROCK — Apart from his fame, Rodney King, whose life ended last Sunday when he was found in the bottom of his swimming pool, was one of untold millions that have struggled with the oft-unshakable demons of alcoholism.
Like so many alcoholics, King’s destiny eventually was one of selffulfilling tragedy. He was drinking on the notorious night of his brutal beating at the hands of Los Angeles police officers. He was reportedly drinking the night of his drowning. And he was repeatedly drinking in the two decades between.
With multiple citations involving alcohol-impaired driving, King’s battle with the bottle was all too typical—it was a losing fight.
That’s why the most appropriate memorial for King would be one that addressed his alcoholism, and stressed more education and treatment solutions about alcohol abuse, which destroys without regard to race, income or social station.
It’s not popular to point out that alcohol abusers (a more candid world used to call them “drunks”) often bring on their own tribulations.
That’s not to say that their suffering is rightly deserved, or fairly proportioned. Nobody deserves to be pummeled by police like King was, just as nobody deserves to die behind the wheel for imbibing at a fun party.
But to memorialize Rodney King as a martyr is misguided. He had a hand in his own misfortune, by unwisely choosing first to flee police and then to resist arrest.
As a convicted felon on parole for robbery, it’s important to remember that before King became a victim, he first victimized someone else.
That separates King from most of the other victims of the riots in Los Angeles a year later following the acquittal in state court of the four officers charged with illegally beating him.
It’s easy to forget that more than 50 people died in those riots, with at least 2,000 more maimed and wounded. And it is more than a small tragedy that hardly anybody can name even one of the riot victims.
Some may recall Reginald Denny, the white truck driver taking a shortcut through south L.A., who was dragged from the cab of his truck and beaten savagely (he suffered 91 skull fractures) by four black reputed gang members.
Fewer will remember Fidel Lopez, a Guatemalan immigrant who was attacked by the same mob just moments after Denny. In addition to suffering a fractured skull and broken ribs, Lopez was robbed, his ear was nearly severed, and he was stripped naked. Then his assailants spray-painted his genitals black.
Those two were just a tiny fraction of the innocent lives destroyed and upended during the riots. Sadly, the collective losses and sufferings of those thousands are relegated to anonymity in the public mindset.
For their injustices suffered, they have received no fame, no milliondollar civil awards. Their struggles to recover have faded from the national conscience.
So, too, have the guilty parties who perpetrated the riots. It takes a small army of criminals to burn down more than 1,000 buildings and loot countless more, cause $1 billion in damages, and leave a couple thousand casualties in the wake of it all.
Defenders of the mob at the time blamed poverty, racism and tension with LAPD officers for creating a tinderbox environment, sparked by the acquittals.
Missing from that assessment, of course, is the elusive elephant in the corner of almost all discussions involving crime—the individual responsibility of every person for his legal or illegal actions.
It is a ruse to draw racial distinctions into discussions over personal accountability. Many black citizens on those riotous days in 1992 behaved lawfully and honorably. Reginald Denny and Fidel Lopez might not have survived were it not for black men who made heroic efforts to save them.
Black people suffered as mightily as any from the riots. Indeed, one need look no further than the deplorable statistics surrounding black-on-black crime to realize that criminality is far more about selfishness, irresponsibility and just plain meanness than about anything racial.
Rodney King said he believed the world was a better place as a result of reforms instituted after his incident, and that’s true for the city he called home. Violent crime in 1991 Los Angeles was at its peak. It has dropped dramatically in the 20 years since.
If we want to memorialize those who sacrificed the most toward jumpstarting that progress, however, we need to remember the victims of the riots and the unwarranted tragedies that befell them.
If we want to see the most revolting injustice, watch the Reginald Denny video. And consider the misdemeanor convictions of the bloodthirsty thugs responsible for his permanent injuries.
Damian “Football” Williams, originally charged with attempted murder, was the only attacker in the Denny beating to go to prison. He served four years for felony mayhem and misdemeanor assault in that case. Just three years after his release in 1997, he was convicted for participating in the murder of a local drug dealer, and is currently serving a sentence of 46 years to life.
Williams’ main problem wasn’t racism, it was lawlessness. And that’s what has to be understood and targeted if we’re ever to corral crime.
We too often characterize crime as a malady. It’s not—it’s always an individual choice.
—–––––
Dana Kelley is a freelance writer from Jonesboro.
Editorial, Pages 15 on 06/22/2012