Why Here? City's Grief Masked by Resilience in Face of Tragedy

At the intersection of Bourbon and Saint Philip Streets yesterday, a few dozen yards from the police cordon, it was almost as if nothing had happened.

- Oliver Laughland

Tourists meandered past the ornate old Creole cottages, the bars served cold beer on tap and horse-drawn carts traipsed through the western end of the French Quarter.

Barely a day had passed since an act of carnage claimed 14 lives, injured more than 35 people and also led to the death of the suspect about eight blocks up the street. But already the area has lurched back into functionality.

Behind the facade, though, grief and melancholy has gripped the city and was especially acute among the people who live and work in this famed neighbourhood in the city's historic centre.

At a post office on the street corner, Donyele Roberson served a small stream of customers sending their first packages of the year and took a moment to reflect. "It's devastating," she said. "Because I don't want to see the city cast in this light. It deserves better than that. There is so much beauty here, and when that gets taken away and you're put in a different light...it is maddening."

New Orleans so often reaches the pages of the national and international press in moments of crisis and disaster - from environmental catastrophe to spates of violent crime - that depictions of the city's resilience are fast becoming almost a trope. And yet, resolve is something many here are eager to discuss in the aftermath of the attack just after 3am on New Year's Day as hundreds were out in the streets still dancing, revelling and ringing in 2025 before tragedy struck.