Now, Burns said, "the talk of town is not about how Fort Worth values diversity, it's about how Fort Worth is an intolerant place. . . . I'm hearing about how people are making threats against public safety officers. The whole thing makes me sick."
Darlene Miller, who lives near the Rainbow Lounge, said the incident had made her uneasy about the bar and its patrons. She's thinking about taking a different route with her two children when they walk to a nearby movie theater.
"I feel terrible even thinking that," said Miller, 39.
Some residents wonder how well they actually know their neighbors.
Robert L. Camina, a filmmaker who has lived in the Dallas-Fort Worth area for 11 years, said he had never felt like an outsider.
"I can hold hands with a guy in public and not be afraid," said Camina, 36. "I've never felt uncomfortable going to a bar. I've never felt that people were giving me looks."
After the incident, he began to wonder whether it was simply bad judgment and poor timing on the part of law enforcement -- or a homophobia that he had overlooked.
"I thought we'd gotten past this sort of thing a long time ago," Camina said.
Sean Goldberg, a manager at the nearby Gallery Art Cafe, said the incident had changed him.
He was at the Rainbow Lounge that night but was leaving as the police pulled up with a paddy wagon.
"My first thought was, 'Someone must be hurt. They're going to help somebody,' " said Goldberg, 31.
Hours later, friends called with tales of people huddling in corners of the club and sobbing at the bar.
"They still hate us," Goldberg recalled thinking. "Even after all this time, and all that's changed, they still hate us."
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p.j.huffstutter@latimes.com
