By Daniel Fitzpatrick, Crisis Magazine - It is January 1, 2025. Night has fallen, and the echoes of the revel are again cracking against the washed-out sky as the leftover fireworks shriek and bang into oblivion. Meanwhile, in the French Quarter, a few miles away in the warm maternal curve of the river, teams are sweeping the cobbled streets and wrought iron alleys, redolent with (urine) and pot and anise and bourbon, for IEDs. This morning, just after 3:00, the shadowland Golgotha where the dark night of the soul inveterately resides, Shamsud-Din Jabbar drove a rented F-150 into a crowd on Bourbon Street, killing fifteen and injuring dozens more before dying in a shoot-out with police.