Ash Kelley

just moment together and for for to be in the 1960s for them to be a gay couple in the 1960s that was hard to find absolutely is your own idyllic life bubble yeah together where you were unburdened by everyone else's fucking opinions about it so they but they found that together and it makes me happy that makes me so happy and just like she's living such a new york life which makes me so happy because she that's what she wanted and where she felt free i feel free i feel alive oh

Now, it's going to take a rough turn.

Of course, yeah.

I know I've set you up for this, but it gives me a little comfort to know that she had this, like, idyllic life with someone she loved before this happened, but this is going to be a hard turn.

Now, at around 2.30 a.m.

on March 13, 1964, Kitty finished closing up Ev's 11th Hour and headed out to her red Fiat parked in the lot.

Oh, my God.

But even at that late hour, it's unlikely that Kitty had danger on her mind.

After all, Queens was the safest of the boroughs at this point.

She felt so at home here that it never would have occurred to her that something terrible could happen.

Well, like you said, she has been enmeshed in this place for years at this point.

This is her home.

She feels safe.

Now pulling off the parkway at the Queens Boulevard exit, Kitty turned onto Austin Street and then parked in the lot for the Long Island Railroad, ignoring the no parking signs, just as everyone in the neighborhood always does.

I was going to say.

They said, fuck that.

Yeah.

As she got out of the car, she fumbled with her keys.

She probably didn't notice the white Corvair slowly pass by and pull off the side road a half a block away.

Mm-hmm.