For Now, We’re Left With the Weight of It

By now, the allegations have settled deep in our softest tissue, Sunday night’s stunning stab of Novocain followed by Monday’s slow numb.

A city doesn’t know what to feel. It doesn’t know what to say. It doesn’t know what to tell its children.

And now, it must wait.

Two law enforcement strangers from a small town in Colorado appeared on television Monday afternoon and confirmed that, yes, Kobe Bryant had been arrested on suspicion of felony sexual assault.

But, no, he has not been charged with a crime.

Yet, charges could be filed by the end of the week.

Or maybe never.

What?

The infamous wheels of justice churn today through the stomach of a city in limbo.

Kobe Bryant is arguably the most popular athlete in Los Angeles. He is admired for his skill, respected for his behavior, trusted for his values.

He has been here only seven years, but it feels like forever, as if he were born here, which he essentially was.

He grew up at the Forum. He became a man at Staples Center. He led three championship parades down Figueroa.

From his wild three-point shots in Utah to his sore-ankled heroics in Indiana. From his battle with Shaquille O’Neal to his marriage to Vanessa. From his first awkward 18-year-old steps to his firm posture outside a Brentwood church last summer.

For Chick Hearn’s funeral.

He was the Laker leader on a day when O’Neal could not be bothered to leave Florida, and Bryant’s place on this landscape had forever been set.

It has been a quiet place, a clean place, nothing wilder than ball hogging, nothing illegal except the occasional elbow.

He matured from everybody’s little brother to everybody’s favorite neighbor to everybody’s hero, such that now, he has earned a status achieved in only the closest rare athlete-fan relationships.

Everybody in town knows him simply by his first name.

Did you see Kobe last night in Sacramento? ... Were you watching what Kobe did against San Antonio?

On Sunday night, a voice on my cell phone was asking a different sort of question.

Did you hear about Kobe?

The details were recited. At the words “sexual assault,” I nearly drove off the road. I thought it was a joke. My son in the back seat demanded to know what was happening. I could not explain.

Still can’t. Nobody can. That is the hardest part.

A city is in limbo with no answers, no clues and no idea what to do next.

A city that, when it comes to these Lakers, has never seen such a thing.

Amazingly, despite being the most scrutinized team in pro sports, the current Laker dynasty has been free from off-court controversy.

There have no Allen Iversons here. There have been no late-night drunk-driving charges, no unconscionable wife-beating charges, nothing of the disheartening acts that have plagued other organizations in all sports.

All you need to know about the Laker conduct is this:

While some NBA players pretend they are gangsters, the Lakers’ most dominating player pretends he is a policeman.

There is Officer O’Neal, and actor Fox, and preacher Fisher, and comedian Horry.

And seamless, spotless Kobe.

A couple of months ago, he shared his most personal battle with me, one involving his father.

Joe Bryant, a former player, did not approve of Kobe’s new wife, Vanessa. He thought Kobe married too young. He thought he shouldn’t have married outside his race.

Kobe refused to renege on his love and support of Vanessa, he said, so he and his father became estranged.

“He doesn’t understand, marriage is more important to me than anything, marriage is for life,” Kobe told me that day.

After my story appeared, the two men reconciled, with Kobe growing teary-eyed on national television at the announcement.

And now, his city waits for another announcement, suspended by disbelief, maddening, numbing limbo.

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.