She was my friend

Ok she was not really a friend of mine, in fact I only met her once and through one of those twists of life she actually watched my dog for a couple days, a couple years ago. Wendy Byrne was a good friend of a good friend of mine and that is the thin line that held us together. On Saturday night she was fatally shot while walking in the French Quarter.
It seems she was shot by two fifteen year old guys. After they robbed her and the man she was walking with. The two 15 year olds had robbed others earlier in the night. I fight the urge to call them kids because when you have graduated to robbing people at gun point you are no longer a child. I have a hard time wrapping my head around whatever could have occurred in these young people’s lives to lead them to a point where they shoot an innocent person in the street but none of that matters any more. Turns out other people are having a hard time calling them kids too, they will be tried as adults when their days in court arrive.
Today, my son drew a picture, I added a sentiment and together we delivered it to the makeshift memorial that has sprung up on the corner of Dauphine and Governor Nichols where she was murdered. He is only two years old but it was like he understood something was different about this place, He pointed out the flowers and candles which were still burning but he was quiet and calm. Not like a two year old at all.
Wendy, knowing who you were and where you worked and just that you lived close-by added a comfort to my fragile world here that you will never know and that not even I did not know until a few days ago. I’ll miss you…Oh yeah and thanks for watching Rosco that one time.

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