Soledad O'Brien

But still, like, you're not alone and secluded. There's a lot happening. You don't feel alone. It doesn't feel scary. It doesn't feel quiet.

But still, like, you're not alone and secluded. There's a lot happening. You don't feel alone. It doesn't feel scary. It doesn't feel quiet.

It feels busy.

It feels busy.

Right, you see the joggers kind of above your head on the bridge, and you even see the homeless people's little encampments because the trees don't even hide those at all. But I thought, having not seen it before, that it would be much more secluded and much, you know, more places where you could hide and not, I mean, really, you can see everything.

Right, you see the joggers kind of above your head on the bridge, and you even see the homeless people's little encampments because the trees don't even hide those at all. But I thought, having not seen it before, that it would be much more secluded and much, you know, more places where you could hide and not, I mean, really, you can see everything.

And these days, planes constantly pass overhead. The towpath has long been in the flight path of Reagan. Of course, back then it was just called National Airport. The path itself is also wider than I thought it would be. We passed people walking their dogs, soccer players and cyclists were whizzing past us. That afternoon, Natalie and I retraced Mary's steps on her final day.

And these days, planes constantly pass overhead. The towpath has long been in the flight path of Reagan. Of course, back then it was just called National Airport. The path itself is also wider than I thought it would be. We passed people walking their dogs, soccer players and cyclists were whizzing past us. That afternoon, Natalie and I retraced Mary's steps on her final day.

We started at M and 34th Street, passed Key Bridge and walked west toward Fletcher's Boathouse, crossed the wooden footbridge, and even walked past the tunnel that journalist Lance Morrow would have taken to reach Mary. We used several sources about the crime to figure out where Mary died, but our best guess is roughly 4300 Canal Road. Natalie pinned it on her phone and we headed that way.

We started at M and 34th Street, passed Key Bridge and walked west toward Fletcher's Boathouse, crossed the wooden footbridge, and even walked past the tunnel that journalist Lance Morrow would have taken to reach Mary. We used several sources about the crime to figure out where Mary died, but our best guess is roughly 4300 Canal Road. Natalie pinned it on her phone and we headed that way.

At this point in our walk, the canal was on the right. The Potomac was on the left, down a slope filled with brush and trees. And that's the spot where she was first shot? Yes. Even in the Potomac kayaks. Like, you're really not alone.

At this point in our walk, the canal was on the right. The Potomac was on the left, down a slope filled with brush and trees. And that's the spot where she was first shot? Yes. Even in the Potomac kayaks. Like, you're really not alone.

Well, it's almost right here like being on a beach, right? The water is to our left, the Potomac. The path has gotten very flat and open. Not too much brush. And the highway is to our right. And it's kind of just... Exposed. Over these last few months, I've read so much about Mary's final walk, the horror and the history of it.

Well, it's almost right here like being on a beach, right? The water is to our left, the Potomac. The path has gotten very flat and open. Not too much brush. And the highway is to our right. And it's kind of just... Exposed. Over these last few months, I've read so much about Mary's final walk, the horror and the history of it.

She was just doing what she did every day to take a moment for herself. Remember, she'd been going through a lot, getting divorced, grieving Michael's death. And yet, when it came down to it, this act of violence happened in a public park that people pass every day, not far away from posh Georgetown stores. You'd think there'd be a plaque or something commemorating this death.

She was just doing what she did every day to take a moment for herself. Remember, she'd been going through a lot, getting divorced, grieving Michael's death. And yet, when it came down to it, this act of violence happened in a public park that people pass every day, not far away from posh Georgetown stores. You'd think there'd be a plaque or something commemorating this death.

But it's business as usual on M Street. You can see people deciding which cupcake flavor to get as a treat as pop music blares from the speakers. It's all a bit jarring. Even if we don't know it, the shadow of history is always following us. I don't think there's anybody walking on those streets 15 minutes away who realized that a murder occurred.

But it's business as usual on M Street. You can see people deciding which cupcake flavor to get as a treat as pop music blares from the speakers. It's all a bit jarring. Even if we don't know it, the shadow of history is always following us. I don't think there's anybody walking on those streets 15 minutes away who realized that a murder occurred.

I don't think there's anybody who's thinking, oh my gosh, this is a site of a murder. They just don't think that way. Partly because I think we forget so quickly and partly because I think it just looks so regular. It doesn't look like a thing at all. It's just a dirt path.

I don't think there's anybody who's thinking, oh my gosh, this is a site of a murder. They just don't think that way. Partly because I think we forget so quickly and partly because I think it just looks so regular. It doesn't look like a thing at all. It's just a dirt path.