Early that Sunday morning, moments before last call, the Pulse nightclub was a sweaty, Latin-themed riposte to Florida’s air-conditioned reality. For a fraction of a second, the noise of Omar Mateen’s assault rifle sounded like the big, loud, fuzzed-out bass coming from the stacks of the Pulse nightclub.
That’s how Patience Carter, 20, of Philadelphia remembers it.
Mourners comfort each other at a vigil in Orlando on June 13th, 2016.
