The Los Angeles riots: Readers remember End of the world I was assigned to Wilshire Division as a second-year officer in the LAPD. I remember standing in formation in the station parking lot listening to the sergeant barking out our assignments, all the while watching and feeling the heat of 200-foot flames as they engulfed a swap meet next door. It appeared it was the end of the world. Alex Salazar Ready to shoot Twenty years ago I was ready to shoot the first LAPD officer that I came in contact with after previous negative encounters with them. One night I was stopped by a LAPD officer for some traffic issue and I immediately thought out a scenario to harm him. But the officer was a true professional and explained why he stopped me. It taught me not to broad-brush them. Bass Reem Empathy supersedes hatred I was 11 years old, living in an apartment in the Crenshaw district on Florence and 10th Avenue with my mom, siblings and stepfather. My mom had scheduled a maintenance visit from Pacific Bell. A tall, slender white man with shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes and a thick mustache came to work on the phone line. He finished repairs exactly at the moment of the not guilty verdict announcement. The technician packed his tools, walked out of our apartment and was immediately attacked in the courtyard by members of Rolling 60s Crips. They broke his nose as they punched and kicked him to the ground. Miraculously, he escaped and ran back to our apartment. He banged on the door screaming for help. As my mother opened the door, he fell inside to the floor and cried out, "They broke my nose!" My mom got some towels and showed him to the bathroom, while she called 911. Paramedics came to get him. During the six days of rioting, firecrackers were ignited at our door to scare us and we received death threats. When the rioting declined, threats died down, but taunting continued well after the incident, until finally my family moved to another neighborhood. My mom's decision to help the technician was a pivotal moment in my life. I witnessed my mother's outrage at the Rodney King beating and the officers' acquittal. But she taught me how empathy supersedes hatred. Because my mother came of age during the civil rights movement, and experienced countless incidents of discrimination, she has a heightened sensibility to injustices inflicted on African Americans. However, she never let it compromise her humanity. Mia Lawson Inglewood