Tear Gas Fury Ignites LA

Police tape cordoning off street with patrol SUVs behind
Photo: Matt Gush / Shutterstock

When protest policing collides with immigration politics, facts become weapons: injury counts, tear-gas deployments, and video clips are marshaled to define legitimacy. The dispute between LAPD Chief Jim McDonnell and mayoral candidate Nithya Raman is a clear case study: one side centers lethal-risk policing under siege; the other centers civil-rights harms and a department seen as shielding federal immigration raids rather than Angelenos.

The Short Version

  • Chief Jim McDonnell says LAPD officers confronted unusually severe violence during anti-ICE unrest, including commercial-grade fireworks; 52 officers were injured, with some left with hearing damage.
  • Nithya Raman argues LAPD under McDonnell and Mayor Karen Bass tear-gassed protesters and suppressed First Amendment activity; she calls for new leadership and a culture shift.
  • Raman’s “fascist liars” flap was walked back by her campaign, which said the phrase targeted ICE and the Trump administration, not Bass, McDonnell, or LAPD rank-and-file.
  • This clash follows a familiar pattern: police emphasize officer safety amid disorder; critics emphasize excessive force and the chilling of dissent.

What actually happened: competing factual cores that are not mutually exclusive

Two claims frame the controversy. First, McDonnell’s: during anti-ICE demonstrations, LAPD faced exceptional levels of violence, including the firing of commercial-grade pyrotechnics at officers; 52 officers were injured, and some sustained lasting hearing damage. He characterizes the department’s response as disciplined under duress. Second, Raman’s: under McDonnell and Bass, LAPD used tear gas on protesters and infringed free-speech rights, repeating past errors in crowd control; she argues the department leaned toward protecting federal immigration operations at the expense of residents’ rights and safety. Each claim is anchored in public statements to mainstream outlets, and they can both be true in part: crowds can contain people who commit violence, and police can also deploy tactics that injure demonstrators and press freedoms. The conflict is over priority and proportion—what defined the events and what leadership choices flowed from that definition.

Raman’s now-deleted video supercharged the narrative battle. The “only you can stop fascist liars” line appeared alongside imagery of Bass and McDonnell, prompting rebukes. Raman’s campaign later said the phrase referred to ICE and the Trump administration, and that the creator edited the juxtaposition; the campaign also reiterated that she did not use the label for Bass, McDonnell, or LAPD officers. The communications cleanup did not alter her core critique: she wants a new chief and a doctrinal reset away from tear gas and toward a rights-forward protest posture.

How protest policing actually works in these settings

Crowd control always runs on two tracks: threat management and rights management. Leaders need to set parameters for when a crowd is treated as a protected assembly and when it is treated as a violent incident. Commanders weigh dispersal orders, arrest thresholds, and the menu of “less-lethal” tools—chemical irritants, kinetic impact projectiles (KIPs), sponge rounds, flash-bangs—each with known injury profiles. Tear gas, for example, is a chemical agent designed to disperse; it is imprecise, affects bystanders, and can escalate panic. KIPs are aimed projectiles intended to deliver pain compliance; misuse—range too close, head strikes, indiscriminate firing—causes severe trauma.

In Los Angeles, independent post-event reviews of protest cycles have repeatedly found both officer injuries and problematic police tactics, including misuse of 40-mm rounds and excessive crowd-control force, even when a subset of demonstrators committed violence. That dual reality is why the policy fight matters: if leadership sets a hair-trigger threshold for chemical agents or treats large crowds monolithically, lawful speakers pay for the actions of a few; if leadership sets too high a threshold, officers and bystanders can be seriously harmed by violent actors. The McDonnell–Raman clash is thus about doctrine, not just an episode.

The evidence that carries weight—and what it doesn’t settle

On the officer-safety side, McDonnell’s injury count and description of “commercial-grade fireworks shot directly” at police are specific and on the record; he also cites hearing impairments that imply significant blast exposure. That is more than rhetoric; it anchors his claim that the response was justified by threat conditions. On the civil-rights side, Raman and allied reporting assert LAPD used tear gas and suppressed First Amendment activity during anti-ICE operations, arguing the department prioritized facilitating federal raids over protecting dissent and the public square.

What the available material does not provide is a single definitive independent after-action that resolves every point—how many discrete tear-gas deployments occurred, where dispersal orders were legally adequate, or how many protester injuries were attributable to LAPD versus other agencies. That absence is typical in real time; comprehensive audits often arrive months later. The lack of a multi-agency forensic record here does not undercut either side’s basic, sourced claims; it simply leaves calibration—were tactics proportionate, were alternatives feasible—open to judgment.

Where the real policy disagreement lies

Raman’s theory of change is leadership-led culture shift: halt tear gas, constrain less-lethal weapons, and recenter the department’s mission on resident protection rather than operational support for ICE. It is a bid to move Los Angeles further toward a rights-first protest doctrine, even in the face of sporadic violence. In that frame, officer injuries, while unacceptable, are not dispositive of policy wisdom if the tools used to restore order are themselves causing broad harm and chilling speech.

McDonnell’s theory is risk-led resilience: faced with lethal threats—pyrotechnics, Molotov cocktails, vehicles—commanders must retain discretion to escalate via chemical agents and other tools to prevent greater harm. Injury counts, in this view, demonstrate that officers were under extraordinary assault; restraint that fails to stop such tactics can be more dangerous than controlled dispersal. This view prioritizes broad public safety and officer survival in conditions that can turn catastrophic in minutes.

What credible oversight would test next time

Cities that learn from these cycles commit to a handful of verifiable practices. First, command documentation that distinguishes between discrete unlawful actors and the broader assembly, paired with targeted arrests where feasible. Second, time-stamped records of dispersal orders, audibility checks, egress routes, and tool deployment rationales—so that independent reviewers can reconstruct necessity and proportionality. Third, cross-agency accountability when federal partners are involved; crowd-control decisions made by one agency often shape outcomes attributed to another. Fourth, transparent injury accounting on both sides—officers and civilians—with categories that separate concussive trauma, hearing loss, chemical exposure, and projectile impacts. Without these, the next debate will repeat the last one at the level of dueling press conferences rather than settled practice.

What this means for Los Angeles going forward

The clashing narratives here are not mere campaign theater; they are governance choices with predictable consequences. Tightening rules on chemical agents and KIPs will reduce collateral injuries and help safeguard speech, but it also increases the burden on training, intelligence, targeted interdiction, and rapid arrest teams to isolate violent actors early. Preserving broad discretion to deploy crowd-control tools may deter some violence and protect officers under fire, but it risks escalating otherwise-manageable demonstrations and generating costly legal and legitimacy backlash.

Voters are not being asked to adjudicate who uttered what in a fast-cut video; they are being asked to choose a protest-policing doctrine. McDonnell’s argument is strongest where the threat picture is specific and acute; Raman’s is strongest where crowd-control tools are imprecise and their costs radiate to peaceful participants. A durable policy for Los Angeles will need to internalize both truths: precision in isolating criminal violence, and discipline in limiting force with wide-area effects. Anything less guarantees another cycle of outrage—followed by another after-action that tells us what we already know.

Sources:

nypost.com, nbclosangeles.com, abc7.com, latimes.com, kabc.com, ground.news