Of course she’ll remember all of this on the night in Los Angeles two months later, in the back kitchen of the old L.A. hotel where the Academy Awards were held several decades before. She isn’t sure whether she actually hears the shots or just imagines hearing them, not knowing exactly where they came from except close by; the one thing that the television footage can’t or won’t capture is the amount of blood a single handgun can spill. “Is there a doctor in the house?” someone with a microphone screams over and over; and over and over are the wails of “Nooo, noooo!” and “How could this happen?”—but how could it not? will be the question later.