A Louisiana State Police trooper looks down Bourbon Street toward the crime scene on Wednesday morning. Photo: Chelsea Brasted/Axios
Chelsea here. Like many of you, I woke up yesterday to the horrifying news of the Bourbon Street attack and immediately checked Find My Friends.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I found the digital dot that represents my sister was safely hovering over her French Quarter apartment building, just two blocks from where police had blocked off the crime scene.
One city official told me that she searched for her own daughter for hours before finally discovering she was safe, too.
The morning was marked by stunning moments that swept all of us into a new year — and a new reality.
Dozens of other people weren't so lucky.
As I walked the perimeter of the crime scene yesterday, I saw and heard a surreal blend of life continuing as normal — people walking their dogs, a couple walking the street and still wearing sequins — and a distinct disaster still unfolding.
One woman ran up to a state police trooper asking about her own daughter. "Is that my baby?" she asked. "They said my daughter got hit by a truck."
I also heard loud noises as I walked the French Quarter, prompting me in the early post-New Year's Eve hours to wonder, "Was that fireworks, or ... ?"
