like salt on a wound

my original plan for blogging tonight was going to be a deeply meaningful list of those things i want in this life. but then i opened my email...

and this is what i found.
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Police responded to the first fatal shooting just before midnight Friday. 

They were called to a home in the 3000 block of Iroquois Street, Kelley said. A man at that location told police he had been repeatedly pistol whipped and that another man had been shot at 123 Live Oak St. 

When detectives arrived at the apartment complex, they found Louis Hall, 57, 1808 Brightside Drive, dead in the parking lot, Kelley said. Hall had been shot in the head. 

Lt. Charles Armstrong, a police spokesman, said Anthony Miles, 29, was arrested almost immediately after police found Hall's body. 

Armstrong said the attacks seem to have stemmed from a disagreement between the victims and Miles. 

Police have not released the identity of the beating victim. Armstrong said his injuries were not life-threatening and that he was taken to an area hospital for treatment. 

Miles, who lives in the complex were the killing occurred, was booked into Parish Prison with first-degree murder of Hall, attempted first-degree murder in the pistol-whipping case, and illegal use of a weapon.
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Louis Hall was "Big Lou" to me. He was a good man and my dad's friend. They worked together, and bonded in spite of all the differences between the two men. It was a relationship that fascinated me beyond any other. Big Lou would come to our house to help my dad do things like move wood (my dad was a fine furniture maker) and move stones for the landscaping of our yard. Together, they were loud and distracting. My dad was 6'4" with wily brown curls and bright blue eyes that could pierce your soul. Lou was about the same height with a giant smile and truly black skin. They were an odd couple. But they were friends, and they took care of each other.

Lou had been tried on rape charges in his younger years because he was in the wrong place and a very wrong time. He was known to be innocent and was granted freedom by the governor of Louisiana. At that point, he became the governor's right-hand-man. He was to taste the governor's food to make sure it wasn't poisoned (believe it or not, this was an honor...) and was given back the respect he'd lost while in prison. He was given work and allowed to begin his life again.

And so, as I read these words, I just feel very sad. I think of Big Lou sitting on the swing with my dad, drinking black coffee. And I imagine his family, who loved him dearly. And I think about the senselessness of his murder. I hope he knows how much I liked him and how much my dad respected him.

Perhaps they are sipping coffee on a swing somewhere together.