Yesterday, two little boys’ bodies were pulled out of the river by the Albany Street Bridge. I bicycled through paralyzed traffic as the police cordoned off the northbound pedestrian lane and stared over the edge. No one was directing cars one way or another. A police photographer walked deliberately across Route 27 on the bridge. One of the younger cops saw me at the foot of Raritan Avenue trying to trace a path between police vans and did not yell at me. The grim expression on his face told me everything. Well, almost everything, because there were no ambulances. Helicopters circled above us for hours afterward.
I am having a little trouble shaking this off.