By Bob Marshall
It was the first week of the disaster when I got to the message on my voice mail. His name was Fred, and he was calling from Pointe a la Hache, the hardscrabble fishing community where the road ends on the east side of the river about 60 miles south of New Orleans. He had awakened that day to read in the newspaper that his marsh had been closed to fishing because a huge tide of oil was coming its way. His voice was heavy with grief.
“Mr. Marshall, I just read the paper, and I needed to talk to someone, " he said, “so I called you because your number was at the end of the story.
“I feel like they just killed my best friend, and there’s nothing I can do about it. If I lose this marsh, I lose my fishing, maybe my duck hunting, too. That means I could lose everything I care about.