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February 27, 1999: 2:55 a.m. My hands are still shaking after just photographing what could have easily turned into a murder-in-progress. I was walking home after shooting a concert and heard a ruckus on a side street. I thought it was just a couple of guys horsing around but I quickly realized I had stumbled onto one of the most horrific drunken brawls I have ever seen. The sidewalk looked like someone had taken a garden hose, sprayed it down with blood and tossed in two pizzas for effect. The trail of blood led to two guys arguing with a teenager and his friend. The little kid ran up to me and I saw a shirt that was riddled with so much blood it looked like he just got off a slaughterhouse shift. He asked me if there was any blood on his face; I told him there was only a trickle from his nose and that statement reinvigorated the kid. He turned, grabbed a big rock and tried to attack the two guys who were walking away. The bigger guy turned and punched the kid. I started to shoot as the fight came my way. I was scared and surprised they didn't even notice the flash going off. The little kid tripped over some bushes and the big guy pounced on him with a salvo of kicks to the ribs. There was no mercy. The little kid draped his jacket over his face in a feeble attempt to protect himself while the big guy repeated the victory phrase "Nobody(kick) pulls(kick) a rock on me(kick)." Meanwhile, the big guy's friend was busy chasing down the little kid's buddy. He returned and tried to get in a few kicks but the big guy pushed his friend away, as if nobody was entitled to lay a foot on HIS victim. The little kid managed to get up when the big guy was distracted by some students heading home. The big guy started a chase that lasted a block. He was ready to kill and could have if two ladies hadn't blocked his path and one told him to "beat me up first before you beat him again." I followed the little kid as he straggled off into the night but returned to the scene when I saw a cop pull up. He had arrested one of the perps and that's when I ran into the dilemma: should I help the police?
I looked behind my back on the walk home, scared because the other perp had escaped. I took a 1/2-mile detour when I noticed a fire engine head toward the east side of campus. They had found the little kid and were questioning him before putting him in the ambulance. I'm afraid to develop the film and see how drastically the subject matter changes from frame 12(the last shot of the concert) to frame 13(the start of the fight). It's 4:30 a.m. and the shaking has finally stopped. Lara Hartley said "James K. gets to have all the fun." Judging from this journal, one would have to suspect she was being sarcastic. Read Mark Hertzberg's companion journal |
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James
Keivom
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Contributor
since 1998
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Behind
the Viewfinder - A Year in the Life of Photojournalism |
