The following is a firsthand account by a photographer who was beaten by Antifa in Berkeley, California.
“There’s the racist piece of shit that’s doxing you guys and ruining your lives!”
I couldn’t see his face behind the ‘mask’. Dark shades prevented me from seeing the hatred in his eyes. But the thinly veiled malice screamed louder than his actual words.
I didn’t need to look around to see that I was hopelessly outnumbered. No time to decide if standing my ground would be wise, valiant, or suicidal. A wooden club made the call when it came crashing down on my video camera.
And I thought to myself, ‘I’m in trouble.’
But I don’t think I had fully accepted the cold hard fact that I was about to be the center of a real shit show. So I went for my camera. I knew better. But denial is a powerful thing. So I bent down a little. Just enough to grab that expensive little gadget that had such an important place in my mind. I was willing to risk further trouble to get it in my hands again.
Then the blows started hitting my head. Rough hands grabbing my backpack, shoulders, forcing me to the ground.
Now I’m fucked.
I’m also a bit dazed. In fact, I remember very little of what happened. I remember the pain. I can still hear the screaming voices echoing through my mind. I have never been the recipient of so much hate directed at me. Why?
I’m just the photographer.
I’m not the guys on the front line of any battles. I document them. I don’t engage. I don’t shove and shout, I report.
And I dodge, when the occasion requires it.
But let me back up.
For the past seven months I have been reporting on events from Portland Oregon to Los Angeles California. My purpose; to document the new Patriot Movement and the efforts of the left to destroy free speech, capitalism, and our way of life. I don’t get in people’s faces, I don’t scream, yell, or otherwise provoke violence. I report the news. Nothing more, nothing less.
I covered the Milo protest and the unprovoked violence perpetrated on unarmed citizens just because they happen to support President Donald Trump. I was there on the ground risking my safety, possibly my life, unprotected, unarmed, during the March 4th Civic Center/MLK Park Battle of Berkeley, and the new famous April 15th Battle of Berkeley. I have riot gear that I have never worn. I have covered many other events.
Because I’m a journalist. I don’t fight. I report. It’s also a little hard to do anything but film when you have cameras in each hand.
While covering a ‘Say no to Marxism’ event in Berkeley California I was brutally attacked by the Antifa Black Bloc on Alston Way, just west of MLK Park. While the official event had been cancelled I knew there were a number of Patriots, including myself who believed we should not give the Antifa a win and allow them to shut down free speech uncontested.
But we were vastly outnumbered from the get go.
Berkeley police were everywhere! Not only lining the park but mixing with the crowd. The entire park and parallel streets were blocked off leaving only two places to enter and leave. They dutifully made sure that Patriots carried nothing that could be used to hurt anyone. And no helmets or other defensive armor.
The Mainstream Media was there conducting interviews. It looked like a long boring day ahead of me. Then around noon a large contingent of Antifa came marching up to the park.
With masks on.
They were allowed in and they began surrounding any patriot they could find chanting “Nazi go home!” and other slogans. They ran them out of the park. Fortunately Berkeley police would surround the Patriots and escort them out so they were not physically attacked.
But after an hour or so I looked around and saw something strange. The entire park was devoid of Law Enforcement. They had vanished! Now the only thing between the few people left in the park and over 1000 masked Antifa was a pathetic cement barrier. They violently cleared the park of the remaining patriots, and a large number of them headed down Alston way. So I went with them.
Big mistake. I had been lulled into a false sense of security, and I was about to pay.
The black block was surging all around me. There must be two hundred of them.
But I stayed with them because that’s what I do. I film Antifa committing criminal acts on unarmed innocent people. I aim to change the narrative that the Mainstream Media has been putting out.
And I do that through my twitter, a blog, and my YouTube channel.
Suddenly an angry antifa who’d ran me off earlier today turns around and sees me. He points in my direction and begins shouting, “That’s the guy whose been doxxing you and ruining your lives!”
Now angry Antifa are stomping the shit out of my kidneys. I didn’t know it at the time, but some guy with a metal flag pole was clubbing me using two hands as he bent over in an all out effort to destroy the enemy.
I’m told he was hitting with such force he bent his pole. Why was I still alive?
At one point my backpack was stripped off my back. Some how I grabbed it and put it over my face. That move right there saved me from getting my face destroyed by flagpole guy. Instead of a busted nose or jaw, I just got my mouth a little thrashed. Pretty minor stuff.
At some point in the attack I remember thinking I was going to die. It wasn’t an, oh I wonder if it will happen. It was a sure thing. I was fucked up, surrounded, stunned, overwhelmed, and I just hoped it came soon ‘cause this shit was painful as fuck! I pictured my beautiful boys’ faces in my mind. I said a quick prayer.
And it stopped.
I had no idea why they stopped hitting me. Then hands grabbed me by my arms and dragged me to my feet. That was even worse. Because of how I was lying, and with the protection of my backpack, I was as protected as one could be, under the circumstances. I assumed they were standing me up to hold me so they could start doing the real damage.
But they shoved me away. They were letting me go. I saw my backpack. I considered grabbing it.
For a microsecond.
Then I decided I wanted to live.
I use that term rather loosely. I hobbled. I ambled down the street as a smaller group continued to follow shouting threats. I turned left off Alston down a side street. I looked up and two Berkeley PD patrol cars are driving right towards me slowly along Grant Street.
A man who witnessed the attack ran into the street and started shouting at the cops while pointing at me.
“That man needs an ambulance! He just got the shit kicked out of him and he needs your help!”
The cops do what they do best when Antifa attacks unarmed innocent people.
They ignored the man trying to help me. They ignored me, and continued on their merry way to wherever it was that they were going that had nothing to do with their oath, ‘To serve and protect’.
Aren’t those very words plastered onto their police cruisers?
I have been supportive of the police all my life. I don’t know if I can do that anymore. I’m not saying I have moved over to the ‘fuck the police’ camp permanently… but I’m definitely pitching my tent there for a spell.
“There’s the racist piece of shit that’s doxing you guys and ruining your lives!”
Those words echoed in my mind as I hobbled along Grant towards Bancroft street. Still being pursued by Antifa and their threats that I can’t recall.
The entire time I’m thinking they’re going to attack again before I can get to my car. It’s just a matter of when it will happen.
I spotted my vehicle off to my right. I couldn’t decide if I should approach, or just keep walking in hopes that the thugs tailing me will give up and I can get to my car without them seeing what I drive. But I was also worried that they’d get bored of following and yelling and start hitting again if I didn’t get the hell out of dodge.
So I ‘bolted’ for my truck thinking it might be a fight to get it started and moving.
I got to my vehicle, it started right up, and I sped away. When I was safely out of the immediate area I called the company I was filming for; Common Sense Conservative Media Group. I got Robert on the phone immediately.
He advised me to get to a safe spot then text him the address and they would meet me with a medic in tow. I was still pretty dazed and I could not think of anywhere to go. No parking lot, gas station, or store came to mind; and I even live here.
I stumbled across a Shell Station with a large parking lot attached. I called Robert and waited for them to show. I kept an eye out for unfriendlies as I waited. Not three minutes later a caravan of cars pulls in, offloading Robert and his crew of Patriots.
Safe at last.
Funny how your mind works. I was under the impression that I was not able to take more than a few steps before the first blows to my head. Upon reviewing video, I see that was not the case. I managed to get about ten feet before someone hit me over the head from behind.
I am hiding in a completely different state while Antifa look for me. They’ve done their best to smear me online. Left wing publications have done the same. Google has been blocking attempts to sign on to my computer from places I have never even been. Antifa and their sympathizers have gone out of his way to stir up hate against me from groups like Black Lives Matter. It’s not enough that I nearly died for the crime of videoing their violence. While on the ground covering the events for CSC Media Group Antifa spotters were relaying my position to a group of Antifa. When I was in the right place, and police had stood down, they called me out and attacked.
The more my story is told, the better chance I have of going home again. I want to see my children. I miss my pets. I want to go home Larry. Maybe if great patriots like yourself keep this story out there, Antifa will decide I’m too high profile a target to keep going after and they’ll leave me alone.
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