<\/p>\n
Dillon was just 15 years old when his uncle took him to his first street takeover. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt was like the first time going to an amusement park,\u201d he said. Pure exhilaration. Cars spinning. Smoke in the air. \u201cPeople literally do not care.\u201d<\/p>\n
If you live in Southern California and you\u2019ve never heard of a street takeover, you\u2019ve probably heard one: Engines rev, tires screech and fireworks explode. These illegal gatherings happen frequently on weekend nights throughout Los Angeles and Orange counties. Cars block major intersections and create space for other drivers to perform reckless maneuvers, including burnouts and donuts. Spectators gather around the middle of \u201cthe pit,\u201d filming cars spinning past with passengers hanging precariously out of windows.<\/p>\n
Fueled by a social media feedback loop, the phenomenon took off during the pandemic, and events can attract hundreds of spectators. The crowds, often made up of minors, seek out street takeovers to find community. They know the risks, which can be deadly.<\/p>\n
A USC reporting lab investigation found that local and state law enforcement are well aware that takeovers have surged, but they have struggled to curb them. Talk to people who live near popular takeover intersections and you will learn about scarred streets, mangled poles, looted stores, injured bystanders and tragic deaths.<\/p>\n
To report this story we analyzed 400 social media videos of street takeovers in the L.A. region.<\/p>\n
USC Open-Source Intelligence Reporting Lab<\/p>\n
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Dillon was hooked after that first night in 2019. He loved the thrill of rushing away whenever the police showed up and speeding down residential streets to the next address shared in the group chat. He found new friends in the scene, brought old friends with him and often stayed out until 6 in the morning. (LAist is using a pseudonym for \u201cDillon,\u201d who asked he not be named due to concerns the takeover community would be hostile if it knew he spoke with reporters.)<\/p>\n
One night in November 2024, Dillon, then 17, was standing in the crowd at a takeover in north Long Beach when a Corvette entered the pit.<\/p>\n
\u201cEverybody saw him coming in hot,\u201d Dillon said. \u201cHe was coming in hot as f–k.\u201d<\/p>\n
The Corvette drifted toward Dillon. He threw himself backward, only for the crowd to push him back toward the car. As the Corvette swung back toward him, Dillon jumped into the air in one last effort to avoid being hit.<\/p>\n
\u201cI landed, feet planted, smack on the middle of the hood,\u201d he said. He then fell to his knees and made eye contact with the driver, who didn\u2019t slow down. \u201cI saw him turn the wheel more.\u201d<\/p>\n
The driver\u2019s maneuver flung Dillon onto the ground, and his car spun over his arm. Dillon bounced up and ran away while other spectators followed, filming him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot even my pinky would move,\u201d he said. \u201cI was just freaked out, like my arm might actually be gone. It was just dead.\u201d<\/p>\n