Thirty-three years ago today I didn’t go to a Valentine’s Day dance at the local nightclub because I thought it was just for kids. When I woke up the next morning I learned that a fire had broken out and 48 kids never got the chance to go home. The last rose some of them received would have been in their funeral wreath instead of a Valentine bouquet.
Thirty-three years later, the building still stands, with no indication of the tragedy that played out that night. Inquests have never reached a verdict.