In all my years working as a photojournalist, the hardest, most difficult assignments to cover are those involving unwarranted death. The sudden loss of a child. A car accident. A fire. A friend’s suicide.
Like many all across the U.S., I awoke Sunday morning to the sickening news of the Pulse nightclub terrorist attack in Orlando, Fla. It was shocking to hear someone could do such harm to people who mean no harm to anyone. And all I could think about was how my gay friends were feeling vulnerable. How they felt insecure, how angry they were, how scared. What kind of scum would attack a group of people just enjoying a night out on the town? Oh yeah: A piece of shit.