the night that Milk was murdered, they had been among the 30,000 who marched silently to City Hall for a candlelight vigil. Now they were in the middle of a post-verdict riot, utterly furious. But where were the cops? They were all fuming /ns/de City Hall-- where their commander had instructed them to stay—-armed prisoners watching helplessly as angry demonstrators broke the glass trying to ram their way through the locked doors. | spotted Weiss and a student from his magazine-writng class, Marilee Strong. The three of us circulated through the crowd. Standing in the middle of the intersection, Chronicle columnist Warren Hinckle was talking with a police official, and he beckoned me to join them. | gathered from their conversation that the cops were about to be released from City Hall. Some were already out. One kept banging his baton on the phone booth where Weiss was calling in his story, and he had to wave his press card before the cop would leave. | found Marilee and suggested that we get away from the area. As we walked north on Polk Street, the police were beginning to march slowly in formation not too far behind us. But the instant they were out of view from City Hall, they broke ranks and started running toward us, hitting the metal pole of a bus stop with their billy clubs, making loud, scary clangs. HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015445