We milled around on the capitol lawn for an hour or so
before the federal troops that were there finally let the march begin.
Then the odd thousands of us who had showed up
walked along a dictated path between tall wire fences
with troopers in full riot gear (some on horseback) blocking every gap,
wearing scary helmets and wielding black batons.
There was nowhere to go but downstream,
and nothing to do when we reached the delta but disperse,
return to our cars, and drive home.
I was having coffee at the kitchen table afterwards
when I got a text from Jess:
“They’ve got us trapped, Dad.
“There’s a line of them 20 feet away.”
So I called and she picked right up.
The troopers had corralled several groups of unauthorized marchers
into a narrow area on West 7th above the river.
She was talking brave but she sounded scared.
Then she said, “They’re coming, Dad. I have to go.”
Jess and her friends were not among
the 800 who were arrested that week
(hundreds more than in the Chicago
The troopers ordered them to leave downtown St. Paul
and, already having been tear-gassed twice,
they were ready to comply.
they were ready to comply.
Among those arrested, there have been 4 or 5 plea agreements but no convictions.
“This is how it starts,” I think now as I thought then –
but I haven’t done jack shit about it.
