Drawn to New Orleans’ iconic street of celebration, a night of partying becomes a nightmare

The night, like countless others Bourbon Street has welcomed over the decades, started off ripe for celebration. With temperatures hovering in the 50s (10-15 degrees Celsius) hours after the arrival of the new year, the outdoor party that flowed along New Orleans’ famous nighttime artery was still hot and drew revelers from far and wide.

After a 3 a.m. pizza, a Pennsylvania man whose family had driven more than 1,000 miles to check the city off their bucket list headed back out onto the music-filled street.

A pair of former Princeton University football teammates joined the crowd, allowing each to show the other what the city’s easy-going energy was all about.

With years of waiting in the city’s restaurants behind him, a New Orleans resident came to watch Bourbon Street’s nightly parade of humanity as he had done so many times before.

In the early hours of Wednesday, the crowds strolling under the wrought-iron balconies of the historic street, many with cups of spirits in hand, were filled with carefree promises. Then an irate Army veteran behind the wheel of a speeding pickup turned their night of joy into a nightmare.

“My brother just wanted to show (his friend) the good humor and joy that New Orleans brings, especially on a day like New Year’s, all the smiles and fun,” said Jack Bech, a younger sibling of one of the victims of the deadly truck attack, Tiger Bech. “Nobody thought it would ever end like this.”

In the days since the rampage that killed 14 people and injured dozens more, families and friends have questioned the fate that left loved ones in the wrong place at an extraordinarily gruesome time. However, the victims were merely following legions who had flocked to Bourbon Street over the years without any concern.

The street, which runs parallel to the Mississippi River and bisects the original grid laid out by the city’s French settlers in 1722, was originally known as Rue Bourbon and has been an entertainment district since shortly after the Civil War. Initially mainly for men, but with the arrival of dinner clubs in the 1920s, couples also came to Bourbon. Visitors returned home to talk about the drinking, eating and dancing.

But in the decades leading up to last week’s attack, the number of nighttime businesses on Bourbon has increased significantly. And the main attraction of the street became the visitors themselves.

Since bars and clubs threw open their doors and windows in the late 1960s and began selling drinks to the crowds on the streets, “the spectators have become the spectacle,” says Richard Campanella, author of “Bourbon Street: A History” and professor at the Tulane City University.

“Everyone realized that Bourbon Street didn’t mean so much the saloons and clubs along the street, but the street itself and the pedestrian parade,” he said.

To research his 2014 book, Campanella stood in the middle of Bourbon’s busiest stretch, the very area where the New Year’s attack took place, and counted the late-night revelers. On regular weekend evenings, more than a hundred people streamed past him every minute. The night before Mardi Gras, the number had more than doubled. When he surveyed visitors on four different nights, he found that about 70% were from out of state and another 10% from outside the US.

That rich street life is exactly what attracted so many of those killed in the attack, and likely what made Bourbon a target.

“Bourbon is like a free party,” said Monisha James, whose 63-year-old uncle, retired waiter and handyman Terrence Kennedy, was killed in the attack. She said he often went to a favorite spot on the street and would often strike up conversations with strangers.

“He did that to enjoy his retirement,” James said.

On New Year’s Eve, Kennedy put on a pair of festive 2025 glasses and headed to Bourbon Street on his bicycle, his sister Jacqueline Kennedy said. He joined thousands of others.

Before leaving, 25-year-old Matthew Tenedorio, who worked as an audiovisual technician at the Superdome in New Orleans, gathered with his mother and brother for New Year’s Eve.

“We had dinner and had fireworks outside and just laughed and hugged each other and told each other we loved each other,” his mother Cathy told NBC News. She tried in vain to convince him not to enter the city.

“They don’t think about the risk,” she said. Tenedorio was killed in the attack.

Jeremi Sensky, 51, had driven with his wife, daughter, son-in-law and two friends from their home in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, to New Orleans, where they had long talked about visiting. Sensky felt cold after stopping for pizza around 3 a.m. and decided to return to their hotel, daughter Heaven Sensky-Kirsch said. That was then attacker Shamsud-Din Jabbar’s rented truck roared down the street.

Others were able to jump out of the way. But Sensky, who used a wheelchair, was hit and suffered injuries including two broken legs. He was able to breathe without a ventilator on Thursday after a ten-hour operation.

“We thought he was dead,” Sensky-Kirsch said. “We can’t believe he’s still alive.”

Tiger Bech and former Princeton teammate Ryan Quigley were also in the crowd. Bech, a 27-year-old resident of Lafayette, Louisiana, who found a job in New York after graduating, had come to New Orleans to show the city to Quigley, a first-time visitor from Pennsylvania. Bech was killed in the attack and Quigley was seriously injured.

Bech was rushed to a nearby hospital and lingered long enough for his mother and father to reach his bedside and connect other family members via video call.

“His eyes were closed and he was on a machine, but I know he could hear us,” Bech’s brother said in an interview with Sky News. “God made his heart beat for a reason, and I truly believe it was so me and my family could say goodbye to him.”

Zion Parsons had arrived from Gulfport, Mississippi, to celebrate a first visit to Bourbon Street with girlfriend Nikyra Dedaux when the truck crashed into them, killing Dedeaux. The 18-year-old planned to attend college to pursue a career as a nurse.

“Bodies, bodies all over the street, everyone screaming and shouting,” said Parsons. “It was just crazy, it was the most like a war zone I’ve ever seen.”

As news of the attack spread, Belal Badawi of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, frantically tried to reach his two sons, who had driven to New Orleans to celebrate the New Year.

The eldest, who was staying with friends in a hotel, answered. But the father had no luck reaching 18-year-old Kareem Badawi, a freshman at the University of Alabama who was home for the holidays. He checked the location of the teen’s phone and saw that it was in the heart of the French Quarter.

The Badawis raced to New Orleans and waited for hours in a hospital before investigators confirmed what they feared most: Their son was among the dead, on a street dedicated to celebrating life.

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Associated Press reporters Sharon Lurye and Jack Brook in New Orleans, Martha Bellisle in Seattle, Kimberly Chandler in Montgomery, Alabama, and Mark Scolforo in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, contributed.