New Orleanians have many virtues, but nonviolent conflict resolution is not one of them. Last year there were 179 murders, an average of one every two days, far more per head of population than any other US city. Of this total, 59 percent remain unsolved, 92 percent were shootings, and an estimated 49 percent were drug related.

Two years ago Father Bill Terry, of St Anna’s episcopal church on Esplanade Street, decided to do something about it. “We couldn’t fix the murders in New Orleans, but we had to act,” he told me. He placed a board outside his church listing the name and age of each victim, and the cause and date of their death. Continuously updated, it has now become a prominent and moving city landmark.

"We started listing names on the murder board around March of 2007. It was several weeks after the big citywide Silence is Violence march on City Hall. A deacon in training came to me and said, ‘We have to do something. But it’s so overwhelming that no matter what we do, I’m afraid that it won't change anything.’ That was the beginning of it all.

“We couldn’t fix the murders in New Orleans, but we did have to act. Then it came to me that one action was to humanize the victims. The primary way to give personhood to anyone is to name them. People who are not numbers and names have power and communicate humanity. So we began with the murder board as a place to remind us all that it’s not about numbers but people.

“In addition, four churches bring roses every month to the chief of police, the mayor, the city council and the district attorney, one rose for each victim that month. We also send them a note naming the victims and saying that we pray for the victims, the perpetrators, and all public servants affected by violence in our city. Violence has more victims than one can imagine – in some way we are all victims.

“Several volunteers dredge through the papers each day for the list of names, and occasionally call the coroner’s office. It’s laborious work, and takes an emotional toll. My wife collects all the articles and obituaries and we preserve them in albums each year. We have these on display as you enter our church, and we keep the albums for prior years in our parish hall.

“I write the names on the board myself. It’s difficult, and it takes a lot out of you. You begin to remember the names and recall the people. This week I posted the name of a young man who, at one time, briefly attended St. Anna’s. I struggled to remember his face and couldn’t, but it was a dark moment writing his name on the board.

“I used to write the names once a week, around Monday, then after a time once every two weeks, then every month. Unintentionally, I was avoiding the obligation. I’m now back to once a week, and afterwards I take time to work in our garden and pray.

“The parishioners are saying a lot by allowing me to put the board up. We read the names of victims each Wednesday and Sunday at Mass during the prayers of the people. St. Anna's folk now expect it, and feel like worship is unfinished or lacking if we don’t read the names.

“I remember in 2007 there was a run of about ten, maybe fifteen days without a murder. That Sunday I announced that we had no victims of violence to pray for in our city that day. The congregation shouted out in joy and clapped. That night I found out that Sunday a boy had been shot to death at about the time we were rejoicing.

“When the murder board became public in the local paper, the Times-Picayune, I got a dozen or more calls from survivors. Many were the mothers of victims. By six p.m. I could take no more calls and broke down and cried, something that I don’t often do. Each story was different, but in some way they were all the same. People said, ‘Thank you for remembering my child. I thought that they’d been forgotten and that nobody cared. Thank you.’

“At least once a month, at odd hours and without much ado, I’ll see a van or car or even two vehicles pull up. A family gets out and walks to the board to find a loved one. They spend a moment, not long, usually take cellphone pictures, then leave.

“On rare occasions a mom or other relative will become vested in the memorial. One brought a small wooden cross and we stuck it in the garden below the sign. Another has come back several times and dug up and replanted the gardens in front of the three signs that we now have; the stories go on. I’m always impressed by passersby who stop and look and meditate on the board.

"One priest has brought several youth groups here from New York, and makes it a mandatory visit. He told me never to stop.”