Monday, March 10, 1997
VIOLENCE:
Coverage of, reaction to robbery displays large degree of
desensitization By Ann Yu Lung
Urban sprawl as far as the eye takes you. Flatlands and endless
boulevards lined with dingy storefronts and used car lots. There is
the occasional strip bar. The morning is unusually hot for March.
It feels like the middle of summer inside the king cab of my
friend’s truck.
Three blocks away from his house we begin to see the throngs of
people, a mixed group of all ethnicities and ages and police
patrols. The curious have come  young couples hand in hand,
parents and their children  to inspect the houses, lawns,
cars and sidewalks of this neighborhood. Young kids are squatting,
rooting around patches of high grass as though enraptured in an
Easter egg hunt. A group of children with ice cream cones pass by,
chatting eagerly. Scenes from just another family outing on a clear
Saturday morning.
Slowly rolling along the street in our vehicle, as the crowd
thins in front of us, we see what we had expected to see. A parked
car riddled with bullet holes, and another, just a few yards down
from it. A man is standing in front of one of the cars, pointing to
the silver punctures as his wife looks on. We pass by quietly,
unnerved by the scene before us. The children, intent on their
exploration, are actually looking for spent shells.
We reach the intersection, and, as I look around, I see more of
the aftermath. Bank of America’s parking lot is brimming with a
motley of fascinated onlookers, reporters, officers, police cars
and news vans. I can’t imagine that less than 24 hours ago, this
was a near war zone.
We set off to Thrifty’s because my friend needs to buy instant
coffee, cans of tuna and soap. The closest drug store is right
across the street from the bank. Driving up to Thrifty’s I couldn’t
help but notice the multiple bullet holes pitting the concrete
facade of the store. Many are clearly marked and numbered with
chalk. In the parking lot, flags of yellow police tape are tied to
the antenna of some of the cars. A closer inspection reveals the
damage done by the spray of machine guns. A barely visible
hand-written flyer near the automatic door tells you who to notify
if your car was hit by gun fire. It seems strangely out of place
posted at the entrance of a neighborhood drug store.
Thrifty’s is doing brisk business. We walk out of Thrifty’s and
he suggests that we cross the street to take a closer look at all
the commotion. With ice cream cone in hand, I am struck by the
irony of how we are fast becoming a part of the spectacle.
There is a fluid mob of observers and patrol officers along the
perimeter of the bank. The tinted glass entrance to the bank is
pressed with the oily hand prints of curious onlookers. Those
cupping their eyes round the glass are getting a better look
inside. I see more indentations along concrete walls, several
parked cars with shattered windows, the pierced and splintered bark
of skinny sidewalk trees that got in way. In a blocked-off area of
the bank’s parking lot, someone important is giving a press
conference. Here I am, at ground zero. I notice my awkwardness
around this busy, carnival atmosphere.
For the next couple of days, like most people in Los Angeles, I
can not escape the barrage of disturbing footage about the
"Shoot-out in the Valley" on the news: the gunmen armed with high
power weapons shooting, like robots, indiscriminately at innocent
bystanders, police, news reporters and even helicopters. The cries
and images of the bleeding victims are replayed. Then, the most
shocking image of all. One of the gunmen collapses from being shot
right there on the grassy sidewalk.
This video segment is recorded from a helicopter and ends with
the soundless image of his heavy body slumping down on its side,
his head bobbing slightly. Some reports say he turned his gun on
himself and took his own life. News footage shows the second
suspect clearly alive when he is apprehended. Later, it is reported
that he bled to death while lying on the pavement. No paramedics
came to help him. When questioned by reporters, the mother of this
second gunman reveals that her son has been extremely depressed and
suicidal. Many distraught citizens who are interviewed after the
shoot-out express their unwavering belief that the suspects
deserved to die.
For days now, I’ve been watching, and wondering. I think about
the inevitability that we are all becoming desensitized to
violence. In the end, the aftermath of violence becomes just
another sideshow. Comparisons are being made between this shoot-out
and scenes people have seen in the movies. With so much sanitized
violence being portrayed in film and television today, it’s no
surprise that we ultimately perceive acts of violence as a form of
entertainment.
But more importantly, I think there should be greater public
concern for what is appropriate material to be shown by the media.
I’m much more disturbed by the consequences of overexposure to
graphic images that depict REAL-LIFE violence. I’m concerned that
the more of it we see on TV, the more we feel that this is just an
inescapable part of living in a fast-paced urban society. I’m weary
that people are throwing up their hands and saying "that’s just the
way it is in Los Angeles." Education against violence and proactive
changes within our community will not come from complacency and
indifference, but from shock and outrage.
I’ve also been wondering about how much each of us value our own
life and the lives of our neighbors. How much humanity is there
left for us to preserve for our children? I can’t help but
speculate that the two robbers were on a suicide mission and wanted
to make a blazing last impression, taking others down with them. It
is apparent that they had absolutely no regard for the lives of the
innocent people around them.
I have heard the Los Angeles Police Department’s numerous
explanations of why the second suspect was not treated by the
paramedics. I am bothered by the fact that the authorities made
minimal efforts to sustain him, as though his life didn’t matter.
Like most people, I believe all criminals should be judged and
rightfully punished for their crimes, but I find myself unwilling
to echo the belief that the two gunmen "deserved to die." They
deserved to be punished. No one, no matter how horrific the deed,
deserves to die. Human life shouldn’t be cheapened.
Each life has value, despite the destruction it is capable of.
If we teach our children this lesson, to impress upon them the
value of their lives and that of their neighbors, then hopefully
they will never be faced with a day like this one.