This morning, we headed over to the Mississippi Center for Justice in Biloxi (big thanks to Dan and Julia for driving our big white van). The office we are working at has been set up exclusively for Katrina recovery, and is staffed full time by three attorneys. The attorneys were extremely grateful for our help, impressing upon us the need for continuing post-hurricane relief work in Mississippi. The lawyers themselves had different backgrounds: we were first introduced to Riley, a former private corporate attorney whose office and practice were destroyed in the hurricane. With a grant from Equal Justice Works, he has changed his focus to helping MS residents reestablish their lives. We next spoke with John, a former legal aid attorney who explained the hurricane destruction and subsequent progress of Mississippi over the past year and half, as well as what more needed to be done. Mississippi has been granted money from the federal government, which was given to the state government for distribution. While the process is quite complex, and filled with bureaucratic obstacles and paperwork challenges for applicants, we were able to get an idea of the many steps that homeowners and renters had to take in order to receive funding. Currently, the Mississippi state government was granted funding by the federal government, but that money has not been distributed to residents. The MCJ was interested in learning why this was- and the detective work involved is our current mission. This information can then be used for the center, along with other local organizations, to represent the realities of the Mississippi citizens trying to reestablish their lives post hurricane. The current hope is that this research will demonstrate that the reasons that the funding has not been used is because that certain groups were not aware of funding they were eligible for, or needing residents were not successful in navigating the complicated FEMA bureaucracy.
Post orientation, our group went to a Vietnamese restaurant for lunch. Biloxi has a large Vietnamese population- one of the groups that the MCJ suspect are not receiving funding that they are eligible for. To get to this area, we drove down to the point of Biloxi. Up until now, Biloxi and New Orleans seemed unnaturally quiet, but not cities of devastation. Along this drive, the aftermath was still prevalent: destroyed homes, piles of trash that were clearly the emptied contents of entire homes, and FEMA trailer parks. At the point of Biloxi, we were able to see the bridge that formerly connected Route 90 over the Biloxi Bay that had been entirely destroyed, with only its pilings visible over the water. We left the noodle shop flyers in Vietnamese, educating patrons about upcoming workshops and programs available to them.
Staff Attorney John shows us the remains of the Route 90 bridge.
After lunch, we finally began our mission: to go door to door in the communities of Biloxi and learn about these residents’ experiences. We were to take a survey to find out about their awareness and participation in FEMA and other related agencies.
Erin, Mike, and myself were able to speak with several individuals, and with each person, we learned more stories of sadness, devestation, and of course, rebuilding. The residents were kind, but it was clear that this was a town in recovery. All the residents had difficult stories. Many of them were many-generation MS families, and they seemed most sad, not at the loss of their individual homes and in some cases, all their possessions (including one woman’s dentures!), but of their town. Biloxi sits along the Gulf of Mexico, and along the beach was a seventy mile of stretch of formally beautiful southern homes and personality.
Destroyed hotel on the Gulfport Coast.
But now, the coast is desolate, filled with bulldozed lots and dumpsters of trash. In the neighborhood we went to, one woman explained that three families on her block sat out the storm- she watched the water surge up the road and stop right in front of her front lawn… her house was damaged only by the strong wind. The pecan tree on her front lawn was tilted, but still stood. Her neighbors were not so lucky- one family was trapped in their attic, trying to avoid the flooding, as their home was destroyed. This family was rebuilding, but sadly, many were not. Many families left, and having lost so much, were not coming back. Discussing the current state of the city in recover, one woman said, “The Biloxi I knew is now just a twinkle in my eye.”
Everyone of course, had an opinion, (generally negative) of FEMA. The residents spoke of the problems with their homeowners insurance conflicting with their ability to recover from FEMA, but being insufficient to rebuild. Some were financially devastated, and unable to fully recover. Others were getting back on their feet, but at the cost of their savings- money they had put aside for retirement and their kids’ college education. As one woman explained, what we thought we needed, we learned we can live without.
While what we saw and learned was unsettling, the grateful and positive attitude of the residents was uplifting. Despite having seen terrible tragedy and destruction, the residents were grateful… each basically saying, “others had it worse… we got off lucky.”
Our group learned a lot today, and we too feel lucky that the MCJ so graciously welcomed us into their town, and that the residents kindly opened their doors and hearts to us. Tomorrow we will continue to traverse the neighborhoods, speaking to more people and gathering more survey data.
As for this evening, we are back in New Orleans, at our quaint hotel/hostel (with bordello style rooms, a ghost, and some very interesting hosts).
Contributed by Joya Cohen
Alisha waits out in the rain in the hotel courtyard.
The Innocence Project Folks:
Today was a start. We met with the Orleans Parish Evidence Clerk, and worked out a plan of action with the Orleans Innocence people, whose kindness and enthusiasm is infectious. Ate fantastic breakfast. Drafted evidence search memo, search affidavits, etc. It’s all part of the long struggle to determine the existence of something – anything – that could emerge from the flooded basements of this city’s criminal courthouse and free an innocent man.
The city is beautiful, and rotted. The colors are vibrant, the mold is deep, and the people move with a slow ease. The public schools never functioned properly before the hurricane, and it’s no different now. Many of the cops wear jumpsuits – people stay out of their way. The French Quarter is clean, Canal Street is clean, and the surrounding streets have man-sized potholes. They say it was always like this. There is a Super-Wal-Mart with its own McDonalds, dialysis station, and hair salon. There are undamaged buildings in the heart of the city that remain shuttered – “for sale” signs abound. It is beautiful, empty, and sad.
Contributed by Brian Baum
After hours in the French Quarter.
