When I was younger, I had an acquaintance with a fairly notorious “outside agitator” of Vietnam Era protests. I remember him saying that he always had a brick split in two at the bottom of his backpack. He claimed a talent for reading mood and he told me flat out, “when things get to THAT p——ed off point, pull out my half brick and chuck it through the nearest window. Something about the sound of shattering glass... well, everyone gets the message instantly, our people, the cops, everyone.”
I was thinking almost the same thing.
I read my share of Abbie Hoffman in my high school days. And the Anarchist Cook Book.
There have to be some weapons in those backpacks. This could turn south in a heartbeat. You know the “other team” is waiting for dark—then you won’t know who threw the brick.