It wasn't just a single afternoon. To understand how did the LA riots start, you have to look past the smoke of April 29, 1992, and realize the city was basically a pressurized cooker with a broken valve for years. Most people point to the verdict. They see the grainy footage of the Simi Valley courthouse and think, "That’s it." But honestly? That was just the match. The fuel had been soaking the streets of South Central for decades.
It’s easy to get lost in the chaos.
Six days of fires. More than 60 people dead. Over $1 billion in property damage. But if you were living in Los Angeles in the early 90s, the air already felt heavy. You had a police department, led by Chief Daryl Gates, that operated more like an occupying army than a community service. You had a vanishing middle class. And you had two specific, violent incidents that acted as the twin pillars of the coming collapse.
The Spark: 81 Seconds of Video
Most people start the clock on March 3, 1991. Rodney King, a Black man on parole, was pulled over after a high-speed chase. What happened next was caught on a Sony Handycam by a guy named George Holliday from his balcony.
For 81 seconds, the world watched four LAPD officers—Stacey Koon, Laurence Powell, Timothy Wind, and Theodore Briseno—beat King with batons and kick him while he was on the ground. They struck him over 50 times. It was brutal. It was undeniable. Or so everyone thought.
For the first time, Black Angelenos had "the receipt." For years, claims of police brutality were dismissed as hearsay or "unsubstantiated." Now, it was on the nightly news. The city didn't explode then, though. It waited. There was a weird, tense hope that the system would actually work because the evidence was right there in low-resolution color.
The Latasha Harlins Tragedy
Thirteen days after the King beating, something happened that is often left out of the "how did the LA riots start" conversation, but it's arguably just as important. A 15-year-old Black girl named Latasha Harlins walked into Empire Liquor, a Korean-owned grocery store.
The store owner, Soon Ja Du, accused Harlins of trying to steal a $1.79 bottle of orange juice. There was a scuffle. Harlins put the juice back on the counter and turned to walk away. Du pulled out a .38 caliber revolver and shot the teenager in the back of the head. Harlins died with the $2 in her hand.
The kicker? The judge, Joyce Karlin, gave Du probation, community service, and a $500 fine. No jail time.
That sentence came down just months before the Rodney King verdict. If you want to know why the riots targeted so many Korean-owned businesses, you have to look at the death of Latasha Harlins. The Black community felt that their lives were worth less than a bottle of juice in the eyes of the law. The tension between the Black and Korean-American communities reached a boiling point before a single window was smashed in 1992.
The Verdict that Broke the City
The trial for the four officers who beat Rodney King was moved. That was a massive mistake. Instead of being held in Los Angeles, it was moved to Simi Valley—a predominantly white, conservative suburb that was home to many police officers.
On April 29, 1992, at 3:15 p.m., the jury announced the results: Not guilty. On almost every count.
The city went numb for a second. Then it went wild.
Within an hour, the epicenter of the unrest formed at the intersection of Florence and Normandie. This wasn't a planned protest. It was a spontaneous, visceral eruption of rage. People started pulling drivers out of cars. The most famous victim was Reginald Denny, a white truck driver who was brutally beaten on live television.
Where were the police? They retreated.
That’s a detail people forget. The LAPD, usually so aggressive, basically pulled back. Commander Larry Feldman ordered his officers to withdraw from the area for their own safety. For hours, there was no law in South Central. The "thin blue line" disappeared, leaving the city to burn.
Why It Wasn't Just a "Race Riot"
Calling it a race riot is a bit of a simplification. It was more of a class rebellion. While the media focused on Black-on-white violence, the reality on the ground was a multiracial explosion of the "have-nots."
Data from the nearly 12,000 arrests made during the week showed a surprising breakdown:
- About 36% of those arrested were Black.
- Roughly 51% were Latino.
- Close to 10% were white.
Many people in the Latino community, particularly in the Pico-Union area, were suffering from the same economic neglect and police harassment as their Black neighbors. In many areas, the "riots" looked more like a frantic, desperate shopping spree. People weren't just taking TVs; they were taking diapers, milk, and shoes. It was the physical manifestation of a decade of Reagan-era "trickle-down" economics that never actually reached the bottom of the hill.
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The Role of the Media and the "Helicopter View"
Los Angeles is the capital of the news helicopter. Because the police had retreated, news crews were the only ones providing eyes on the ground. This created a feedback loop.
People saw the looting on TV, saw that no one was stopping it, and decided to head out and join. The media coverage also skewed the perception of what was happening. By focusing almost exclusively on the violence at Florence and Normandie or the fires in Koreatown, they missed the nuanced community efforts—like the Bloods and Crips actually declaring a truce to stand together against the police.
The Siege of Koreatown
One of the most harrowing chapters of how the LA riots started and escalated was the total abandonment of Koreatown. Shop owners, realizing the LAPD wasn't coming to save them, took to the roofs of their businesses with semi-automatic rifles.
This is where the "Roof Koreans" meme comes from, but the reality was far from a joke. It was a desperate survival tactic. The Korean-American community suffered nearly half of all the property damage during the riots. They felt used by the city—placed as a "buffer zone" between the wealthy white areas and the impoverished Black neighborhoods, then left to fend for themselves when the fire started.
The Aftermath and the "Can We All Get Along?"
On the third day, Rodney King himself stepped in front of the cameras. He looked shaken. He famously asked, "People, I just want to say, can we all get along? Can we get along?"
It didn't stop the violence immediately, but it changed the tone. Eventually, the California National Guard and federal troops arrived. Over 13,000 soldiers patrolled the streets with humvees and fixed bayonets. It looked like a war zone because, for all intents and purposes, it was.
Actionable Insights: Lessons from 1992
The 1992 riots changed the way American cities are policed, but they also serve as a warning. If you’re looking at the history to understand the present, here is what actually matters:
1. Accountability is the Only Vent for Pressure
The riots didn't happen because of the beating; they happened because the legal system failed to acknowledge the beating. When people feel the "official" channels for justice are rigged, they will create their own justice in the streets.
2. Economics and Policing are Linked
You can't separate the 18% unemployment rate in South Central in 1992 from the violence. Desperation fuels rage. Modern urban planning now emphasizes "community policing," which was a direct response to the failure of Daryl Gates' "paramilitary" style.
3. The Danger of the "Buffer"
The conflict between the Black and Korean communities was exacerbated by a lack of political representation for both. In any diverse city, direct communication between community leaders is the only way to prevent groups from being pitted against one another by systemic failures.
4. Check Your Sources
History is often written by those in the helicopters. To truly understand how the LA riots started, look for oral histories from people who were on the ground—like the accounts found in the LA 1992 Archive or the documentary "LA 92" which uses raw footage without narration to show the timeline.
Understanding this history isn't just about memorizing dates. It's about recognizing the warning signs of a city in pain. If the underlying issues of economic disparity and police accountability aren't addressed, the "start" of a riot is always just one verdict away.