12 I fought my way toward Becky. I could no longer see her or hear her, but I kept pushing through. I got elbowed in the chest and hit across the cheek with the edge of a wooden banner. I spotted her pink shoe and barreled toward it. She sat on the ground, one arm pinned behind her by a cop, the other lashing out aimlessly. The other policeman shouted at her to stop struggling or she'd be arrested for assaulting an officer. But Becky wasn't listening. She was hysterical, crying and screaming and kicking. I had to get to her and calm her down before she got herself hurt or arrested. "Becky!" I cried, shoving at the sweaty body of a man who got too close. The crowd was thick near her, the noise level deafening. It was chaos. The protesters jostled for position and surged whenever the poli

