The reporter was Davis Winborne, a Mizzou photojournalism student. The lesson he was about to learn covering the demonstrations following the Jason Stockley acquittal for the 2011 killing of Anthony Lamar Smith couldn’t be taught in any classroom.

The SWAT truck stopped, and heavily armored officers carrying assault rifles poured out, screaming at us. Thinking that they would likely ignore the journalists and go after the demonstrators, we stopped and put our hands and cameras in the air. Most of the demonstrators were wearing black, their faces covered with bandanas, and some had weapons. The journalists, on the other hand, were dressed the way we often are — in button-down shirts, with press credentials and cameras plain to see. The difference was obvious.

The peaceful demonstrators of the day had turned into violent protesters of the night, “using broken cement planters to destroy windows, cars and storefronts.” Certainly the windows. cars and storefronts were at fault for the Stockley acquittal and deserved to be broken. And why was Winborn there?

It is important that journalists be allowed to do their job. It is our responsibility to bear witness to newsworthy events. When police ignore the people who are smashing windows and destroying property in order to focus on handcuffing and berating journalists, it impedes our ability to show the world what is happening.

The phrase, “bear witness,” appears to be popular lately. There was a time when journalists reported. Now, they “bear witness.” Is there a distinction?

And yet most of the demonstrators escaped while nearly all of the SWAT officers grabbed the journalists by our necks and forced us against a brick wall. An officer pulled my respirator off my face and threw it into the street and then pulled my helmet back so tightly that the fastened strap began to cut off my air supply. Our hands were immediately zip-tied tightly behind our backs, and I was unable to breathe or remove my helmet. I tried in vain to choke out the words — “I can’t breathe.” A photographer next to me noticed and loudly said to an officer behind us, “You need to take off his helmet, he’s choking.” The officer looked at him, then at me, and said “I can’t hear you” and walked away.

Wearing a helmet and respirator was a smart decision for a photojournalist covering a demonstration. It would be smart for demonstrating as well. Regardless, walking away from a person choking, hands zip-locked behind his back, was a potential death sentence.

I was eventually able to use the wall next to me to nudge my helmet back onto my head. Now able to speak, I turned to the officer in charge and asked, “Am I under arrest?” His reply was: “Shut up, mother——.”

Good that Winborne was taking notes, as this will be on the test. The police and reporters have a historically unholy relationship, each dependent on the other to make their lives easier. The cops spew nonsense and the reporters dutifully regurgitate it, never asking real questions. But this time the question was personal, and he received the definitive cop response.

So the police in St. Louis turned a potential ally into an enemy in the press? The media hasn’t been particularly kind to the cops in Missouri, and the cops in Missouri haven’t deserved any kindness. If you’re not their friend, they aren’t yours. But then, neither were the demonstrators.

We were locked into the van with the lights off for about 30 minutes. Finally, the door opened, and several demonstrators were put on the van with us. They also had their hands zip-tied behind their backs. As we sat together in the crowded space for the next 15 minutes, the demonstrators grew increasingly angry as they realized we were the ones who had been taking photographs of them destroying property.

Among the new sensibilities on the street, the doxxing of demonstrators, revealing the image and possibly identity of those committing crimes in the course of their protest, runs contrary to their desires. It’s no mystery that people committing crimes don’t want to be caught on camera, but it’s new that they believe it to be their entitlement. At Berkeley, Antifa demonstrators handed out a warning to reporters in advance about this.

The demonstrators began to stand up and walk around the bus, threatening us. Just as I felt the situation on the van was becoming too dangerous, the door of the van opened and a different police officer pulled all of the journalists off the van. I have been told that a freelance photographer still outside the van persuaded the officers that we were journalists and ought to be released.

No rousing chorus of Kumbaya on the bus. No friends. No comrades in zip-locks. No one loved the journalists there to “bear witness” to the demonstration in downtown St. Louis. And what was Winborne’s answer to the test question:

As journalists, we expect the police to recognize the right we have to document unfolding events in order to truthfully inform the public. Instead of being able to do our job, our physical integrity was at risk because of the police.

Journalists believe they enjoy a special armor that protects them from the threatening and dangerous world around them, because they assume a special place in society, one protected by the Constitution and respected by all. They were at serious risk from the police. They were also at risk from the demonstrators. Winborne loses a few points for omitting that from his answer.

We gained valuable insight to what it feels like to not be protected by those whose purpose is to create safe communities, a feeling that is all too common for many people of color in the United States. As white journalists, we have significant privilege in our society that has spared us from directly facing racial discrimination from police officers. While photographing, we caught a glimpse of the fear of unpredictable policing that people of color have experienced for far too long.

Davis Winborne learned a very important lesson on the streets of St. Louis. He also failed to learn a very important lesson. That’s what happens when you’re dedicated to “bearing witness,” and then you “truthfully,” rather than accurately, inform the public.