Riots and rebellion erupt throughout Los Angeles. Daryl Gates leaves police headquarters to attend a political fundraising party across town in the wealthy and predominantly Anglo beachside community of Pacific Palisades.
The police evacuate the intersection of Florence and Normandie in South Central Los Angeles, which is a tinder box for the riots and rebellion. Reginald Denny, an Anglo man, is pulled from his truck and beaten. A news helicopter captures the beating on videotape. Fidel Lopez, a contractor who is a Guatemalan immigrant, is beaten near the same intersection.
Choi Sai-Choi, a bookkeeper and Chinese immigrant who arrived from Hong Kong in 1989, became one of the first victims of the riots and rebellion when he was dragged from his car, beaten and robbed at Florence and Normandie in South-Central Los Angeles, the same intersection where trucker Reginald Denny was later attached. Choi said he slowed his car when he neared the intersection because he saw people waving their hands. "I was afraid I may bump into them." "People rushed toward my car and tried to open my door," Choi said. "I took hold of the keys with my hand, then I was being pulled out by those people from my car." Choi suffered injuries to his head and lower back before a black off-duty firefighter rescued him. He lost his job because he has been unable to work since the attack. Off-duty Los Angeles Firefighter Donald R. Jones went to Choi's aid, helping him get back into his car as looters were taking his belongings. "When I walked over to him, he clutched both my legs with his arms and said, 'Thank you,'" said Jones.
By the time the riots and rebellion are over several days later, at least 42 people have been killed, 700 structures have been destroyed by fire, thousands of people have lost their jobs, 5,000 people have been arrested and Los Angeles has suffered $1 billion in damages.
Most people had disappeared, either fleeing the city or hiding under their beds. We could come out of our apartment building and watch the looters make hourly attempts to break into the appliance and electronics store half a block down, then scatter when a squad car would come by and blast its siren (no cops were actually getting out of their cars that day that I could see). The looters would pile back into their cars and take off up our street, making the residents (the ones outside taking in events) scatter. We'd duck into doorways or behind cars in driveways. As we were doing this for the third time or so, one of the looters' cars squealed to a stop and a young, seemly well-dressed black gentleman yelled from it, "What are you running for? What are you afraid of?" And my wife stopped dead in her tracks, turned around and said directly to him, "Why are you here?" "F*** you, bitch," said the nice young man, and the car squealed away again.