BATON ROUGE, La.: Anger. Sorrow. Vengeful glee. Guilt. Terrence Carter has experienced it all during Baton Rouge’s summer of pain. And on Thursday, as he walked through the dirty water on the floor of his home, Carter said he was experiencing, of all things, hope.
“A couple of weeks ago, it seems like everybody was pulling apart. Now it’s no black and white thing. Everybody’s just got to help everybody to come out of this,” Carter said.
Baton Rouge, the unassuming Louisiana capital city that is often overshadowed by jazz-loving, hard-partying New Orleans, has endured a string of tragedies this summer: the July 7 shooting death of a black man at the hands of two white police officers, the July 17 ambush killings of three officers by a black man, and now, the rains that have triggered catastrophic flooding.
And yet, amid this latest crisis, Carter and others have seen people pull together — white and black, officers and civilians — in ways that give them hope.
“We had so much division and hate in this city, but it’s kind of a cleansing and a washing and God letting us know that all the things that we are fighting over and that are dividing us, that he’s in control of everything,” said Cleve Dunn Jr., a businessman and leader in the black community.
The waters are largely receding across southern Louisiana. At least 13 people have died, and authorities are going door to door looking for more. More than 85,000 people have registered for federal disaster assistance, more than 30,000 have been rescued, and an estimated 40,000 homes have been damaged.
One sure sign of how the city has unified has been the “Cajun Navy,” a corps of regular citizens who have gone out on boats to rescue people stranded in their houses. One of those rescuers was Sandra Sterling, aunt of the black man killed outside of a Baton Rouge convenience store.
When floodwaters began rising near her home last Saturday, Sandra Sterling stayed to help her neighbors get out, first by school bus, then by boat. Sterling estimates she and others helped more than 200 people reach dry ground over the weekend.
While pushing for justice for her nephew, Sterling also has helped lead calls for peace in the city.
“I couldn’t save his life, but I can probably save a lot more now,’’ she said.