A Mugging on Lake Street
A veteran investigative reporter looks into his own beating and finds himself confronting harsh and lingering questions of race
BY JOHN CONROY
‘In my next conscious moment, I was dimly aware that I was facedown on the pavement. There was blood in my mouth.’
I was ambushed on the West Side last year, an attack that on its face made no sense. I’d never seen my assailant before; he’d never seen me; no words were exchanged; nothing was taken. Like many crime victims, I wanted the incident, which changed my life for the worse, to have some meaning. I’m white, he is black, and in time it was hard not to wonder if race had something to do with it.
The attack came at about 4:15 on May 9th, a sunny Friday afternoon. I had ridden my bike to the Loop for a meeting…”