Since I published this, I found a story in a local blog page describing what this guy and his partner were reported to have done. Apparently, there was a belief that a cop had been injured, though I have not seen anything to confirm that in the local rag. There are a few comments from citizens who had close brushes with the fleeing suspects:

 http://missionlocal.org/2009/06/13-police-cars-chase-suspects-through-the-mission/

I was sitting at my table working on my computer when I heard yet another car crash on the thoroughfare near my house. Yesterday, a couple of injured cars stood in the middle of the street for hours. We watched as the driver of one of them fled. We called the police and gave what little information we could about the guy who ran. He creamed some poor immigrant's taxi, possibly with a stolen car, and it was clear whose side we were on.

Today, I heard the sound of screeching tires and an impact again. Somewhat bored, I went to look out my front window, assuming it was in the deadly intersection by my house. I saw no crashed cars, but I saw a guy on foot turn on my street and run up the street past my house heading south. A police car with siren turned the other direction at the corner. I hesitated a moment. Another fleeing hit and run driver?  I had an impulse to pick up the phone. I suppressed it. What did I know? He could be late to something. The cops had gone the other way. 

I heard more sirens. A cop car came screaming down the street from south, and the guy slowed and turned, He started to walk back, trying to look slow, relaxed. Definitely fleeing. Another cop came around the corner from the other direction. They spotted him. Cops jumped from cars, running toward him.  The guy ran a few steps, then slowed in defeat. He was practically standing still when they tackled him.

There was no shout, no order. The first cop hit him squarely from the back, another hit him from the side. They knocked him face down on the pavement, hitting his head on the neighbor's motorcycle fender. More cops jumped on top. There was no resistance from the guy at all. Now there was a lot of hollering, which seemed to be about handcuffing the guy. It sounded like the cops were saying to each other to get the cuffs on him. There were so many of them -- five cops -- on the guy, I'm sure it was difficult to do even the simple task of handcuffing an immobilized, unresisting suspect. The guy must have had an even harder time breathing. 

The mass of cops heaved and swayed, not because the guy fought but because they were so crowded as they performed various tasks. The cops looked like  a pack of animals feeding on a kill. They seemed to be grinding the man's face into the sidewalk. One cop started fishing in the guy's back pockets, pulling his pants down and leaving his ass exposed, though the pants had not been particularly baggy. The cops kept knocking into the motorcycle and I felt an absurd urge to yell at them to be careful with it. 

Finally they started to climb off the guy. One cop stayed on him, lying on top of him, pushing him into the ground, saying something in his ear in a parody of sex. Finally, another cop eased him off. The man, who had not moved once, was hauled to his feet. His face was a horrible shade of purple. He was pulled to a police car.

 Later, the cops stood in front of my house and talked about what had happened. My street's too noisy for me to hear much, but it seems that the man and another guy were fleeing in a car, perhaps from an accident, or perhaps from something else, and in the process, they hit a cop car.

I got it. This was payback. What the cop was saying in his ear was probably along the lines of never fuck with a cop car. The guy was driven away and a lot of happy, satisfied cops hung around in front of my house congratulating each other.