By David Van Deusen
Jefferson Parish, LA, - On the afternoon of Thursday, September 8th, Vermont National Guard troops brought food and water, by truck, into a number of poor and working class communities in Jefferson Parish, just across the river from New Orleans. Throughout the day twelve Guardsmen distributed an estimated 900 meals to hurricane survivors.
The first destination was a housing project in Tarrytown. The apartment buildings were two story structures, built in the 1970s. These projects are populated by poor Blacks. The streets were littered with debris. Many buildings remained intact. Others showed signs of Katrina’s devastating winds. Electricity remained out. At the flood’s height, waters flowed waist deep through this neighborhood. By the time the Guard rolled through, the flood had already subsided.
Before Katrina the projects were home to hundreds. As the Guard arrived with provisions, it appeared that only thirty or so remained. These were the poorest of the poor; those who had no means to leave on their own accord. Many were children and elderly. This neighborhood received little aid prior to the Guard’s arrival, and none whatsoever for the first five days of the disaster. The fire department refused to bring supplies into the community without a National Guard presence because of fear for their safety.
As the Guard drove slowly through the streets passing out food and water, I followed, interviewing residents. A young man named Renee Rose, 16, made his way to the supplies. I asked him what he thought of the government’s response to the crisis.
“I don’t think they done alright cause the power should have been on by now,” said Rose. He continued to talk about the state of his neighborhood, “The community right here is falling apart. Ain't never been that many people who have left… we got a man who lived right here, got killed.” The reason for the killing, as well as the perpetrator is unclear.
“That was his van right there, and they left. See what they did-–the anger--they messed up the van… see how messed up it is? They just went berserk, see?” The van he points to looks as if its been bludgeoned with sledge hammers. The sides are smashed in, and the windows are broken.
I ask Renee what he thinks the future holds. “I don’t know. I have no clue. Bush needs to come down here and see himself… I don’t think he would, but he needs to.”
Kathryn Nevels, 54, sits in a chair in front of her apartment. She also contends that the government response to the storm was less than adequate. “To tell the truth we wish it could be better. We wish it could be much better.”
Despite these misgivings, Nevels remains optimistic about the community.
“Everybody is fine, they’re pitching in together and helping the best way we can. We’re just hoping that once everything is over with our dept to society is paid and we can rebuild and start all over again.” She does not explain whom she feels the people owe a dept to.
I approached a group of four adults, three women and one man who all appeared to be in their late thirties-early forties. This group was standing around a car loaded with belongings. They immediately express their desire to leave for Texas, but confess they have no gas. All wished to remain unnamed.
A distraught woman, mother of three, tells me “everybody’s gone and we’ve been living here for over five years, maybe six. We’re just hanging on strong… I’m just trying to look after my children… We got no gas, we got [some] water in jugs... We’re trying to keep [our home] clean the best way we can, but it still has the whole filth and smell in it. The damage is real bad… I’m trying to get out of here. I’m trying to get to Texas. I don’t care where I go as long as I get the fuck up out of here.”
I ask how she assesses the local and federal government’s response to the crisis. Her eyes become sharp. “They [the government] are not handling it [the crisis] right. They’re not doing what they’re supposed to do. If they were to do what they were supposed to do, we would be out of here right about now.”
Addressing local officials she becomes angry and proclaims, “People came here and drew guns on us… The police… They were about to beat up my [twelve year old] son on his birthday because he told them not to search his bag… They came out from nowhere, just crept up on us. When it’s dark we can’t see nothing. We didn’t know what was going on. They draw guns on us, telling us to raise our hands up, you know –and everything.
My little niece was right there, she had her baby and they still was drawing guns… We had no choice but to put our hands up or we’d get shot. They [the police] said ‘we saw you breaking into peoples cars’ and were gonna shoot somebody.”
The woman claims that police shot and killed local residents without just cause. “People that’s dear to us done got shot. People we know got killed. They [the police] got the permission to shoot them on sight.”
A strong looking man in his forties stepped forward and said, “They draw guns on all of us. Every last one of my kids, my wife, and my nephew, and everything.”
The man discusses the plight of those who were forced to loot food when government aid failed to arrive, “We got a lot of people who go get food for their [family]. They [the police] killed them, since the storm, in this neighborhood, on Manhattan [street] across the river and everything. All down here. [The police] have been shooting on the kids. They aren’t saying freeze or nothing. They shooting you in the head and that’s bad.”
Another resident, a woman in her late 30s, attributed the alleged instances of police killings to racism. “We got a lot of racist [White] cops that are taking advantage of this fact that it’s supposed to be marshal law, and they’re really taking advantage of it.”
With relative chaos still prevailing in Jefferson Parish, it is impossible to verify or discredit these serious charges. It is also difficult to tell if these alleged abuses are localized or widespread. However, in the past 72 hours, similar reports have been coming in from New Orleans. I can report that the night before, while on patrol with the Guard no more than a mile away, two local cops from the sheriff’s department pulled up to us. In the darkness they did not notice that a member of the press was present. I heard them tell the Guardsmen “no one on this street is innocent.” They went on to encourage the Guard to shoot people, and informed them that they would cover up such events. As they pulled away, they aimed their PA system at area apartments, blaring the sounds of a woman screaming. To date the Vermont National Guard has not fired a weapon.
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