Police Brutality

Simmering tensions in the wake of two deadly police shootings in Anaheim exploded into violence Tuesday night as protesters clashed with police outside City Hall even as officials voted to ask federal authorities to investigate the killings that have rocked the Orange County community. Protesters hurled rocks, traffic cones and other objects at police clad in riot gear as officers chased people along sidewalks and streets throughout the evening and fired less-than-lethal projectiles into crowds after giving a dispersal order.

Rodney King will always be remembered for that April 1991 night that changed the history of Los Angeles, but at his memorial Saturday, his family said they wanted to dwell on the man, not the symbol. So they spoke of the child who played in the foothills above his home in Altadena, of the father who told his daughter to hold her head up, of the friend who was proud of a championship belt from a recent fighting match and of the man known to them as "Glen" or "G. " "His family's wish is that this not be political," King's attorney, Steven Lerman, said before a public memorial at Forest Lawn-Hollywood Hills.

Re "A reluctant catalyst," Obituary, June 18 The tragedy of Rodney King's life began long before his 1991 beating exposed the disgrace of police brutality. His book "The Riot Within" describes matter of factly, with the same confused gentleness we saw in his "can we all get along" speech, the routine and brutal beatings he suffered as a child at the hands of his abusive alcoholic father. Alas, no one was there to videotape those beatings. It seems poignant that King died onFather's Day, a holiday likely to have aroused conflicted feelings, including pain and rage.

The death of Rodney Glen King this weekend brought to an end an era that defined modern Los Angeles and affected any person who lived through it. It was, of course, King's beating at the hands of four Los Angeles police officers in 1991 that plunged the city into a wrenching debate over police brutality and racism. When the officers who pummeled King were acquitted on all but one charge the following year, the city responded with devastating riots, and King memorably pleaded for calm, begging residents to "get along.

HOUSTON -- An 18-year-old who testified in the first trial of several former Houston police officers accused of beating him during a 2010 burglary arrest has been arrested again -- on suspicion of burglary. Less than two months after Chad Holley finished probation in connection with his 2010 arrest and conviction, he was arrested last Wednesday on suspicion of burglarizing a home. Holley's lawyer could not be reached for comment Monday. A spokeswoman for Harris County Dist.

Rodney King never set out to be a James Meredith or Rosa Parks. He was a drunk, unemployed construction worker on parole when he careened into the city's consciousness in a white Hyundai early one Sunday morning in 1991. While he was enduring the videotaped blows that would reverberate around the world, he wanted to escape to a nearby park where his father used to take him. He simply wanted to survive. PHOTOS: Rodney King | 1965- 2012 He did survive, but the brutal beating transformed the troubled man into an icon of the civil rights movement.

In 1985, Los Angeles rapper Toddy Tee released what could be considered West Coast hip-hop's opening salvo against police brutality in black neighborhoods. The electro-grooved "Batterram," named for the battering ram that then-LAPD Chief Daryl F. Gates used to smash into homes of suspected drug dealers, was a hit on local radio station KDAY-AM. The track went on to become a protest anthem in minority neighborhoods around the city where the device was often deployed against homes that were later proved drug-free: "You're mistakin' my pad for a rockhouse / Well, I know to you we all look the same / But I'm not the one slingin' caine / I work nine to five and ain't a damn thing changed …" rapped Toddy Tee. The L.A. riots of 1992 arrived with its soundtrack in place.

In light of the terrible financial crisis at our California universities, I feel the need to rescue UC Davis, whose administrators are, according to The Times, negotiating a price with the Kroll security firm in New York for none other than former LAPD Chief Bill Bratton to fly West and tell us what went wrong on the day that students were pepper sprayed. I can save the university a hefty Kroll consulting fee by suggesting that the administrators carefully peruse a few of the newspaper articles of the past week and all will be revealed to them.

Gathering at what has become a regular protest of the Fullerton police confrontation that left a homeless man dead, activist Frank Alonzo hoisted aloft a flag with a snake curled under the slogan "Don't Tread on Me. " He and others were in front of the Fullerton police station to demand action against the officers who they believe fatally beat Kelly Thomas. But for some there was an underlying political message that went well beyond police brutality. "Here's the problem: Those cops are symptoms of a disease, and the disease is big government — arrogant, self-serving big government.

Law enforcement and transit officials shut down four downtown San Francisco train stations and closed a swath of busy Market Street during the height of the evening commute Monday in response to a noisy protest. Market Street was choked with hundreds of pedestrians struggling to get home, stopping at each successive Bay Area Rapid Transit station entrance only to be turned away. Helicopters lumbered overhead and police in riot gear followed protesters east toward the San Francisco Bay. The stations were closed for about two hours during a demonstration against alleged BART police brutality and a decision by agency officials last week to cut underground cellphone service in an effort to quell an earlier protest.