Chung Johnson was 57 when her life was taken in New Orleans, Louisiana. She was a woman whose name now sits in public records under the stark, impersonal label of homicide, a word that can’t possibly hold everything she was before that moment. It is the kind of entry that tells you the ending, but not the living that came before it, and it leaves behind the ache of knowing that someone who mattered to somebody ended up reduced to a small footprint in a system built to track tragedy.
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