An account by a survivor of New Orleans.
The thing that amazes me is people taking TVs when there is nothing to plug them into. I can understand the need for food, water and even clothing. But TVs!?!
With the looting beginning, Ann Mike and I start discussing whether evacuating might be a good idea now that the storm is over and the looting is beginning. There are still reservations about whether the car is road-worthy and whether there’s enough gas. A few moments later, a pick-up truck full of thugs comes rolling up the street, yelling “Get out!” Not a friendly kind of “Hey, you should get somewhere safe” but more of a “Get the fuck out so we can take over”.
And thus the thin veneer of civilation peels away.
At this point, every business has been broken into, at least every one near us, and they are starting to go for houses… we’re hoping the evacuated ones first. There seem to be less random solo looters, and there’s much more of a gang mentality on the streets. This was quite possibly the result of all the gunfire exchanges we’d hear in the last 36 hours or so. We know that if we do get attacked, it will be a group, and we won’t have a chance to really fight. We barricade the doors as best as we can, and figure if someone tries coming in, we’ll fire some shots at the door and just run out the back.
You got to feel for these guys, one officer vs 100s of unknowns. They should all get medals. From a country that constantly talks about honour and never leaving a man behind, they certainly dropped the ball on this one.
We finally see a police officer with a shotgun, and he’s standing in front of the Walgreen’s that Mike had already seen get looted days before. That’s the only police officer we saw during the entire time over all those days before we got to the highway.