HENDERSON, Ky. -- At 8:30 a.m. Wednesday a young man in his 20s approached the Rev. Obediah Franklin, a traveling minister who was kneeling at the busy intersection of Second and Green streets in this Ohio River town."He was the first person I talked to this morning, about 20 minutes ago," said Franklin, dressed in red jumpsuit, shoes and cap, and holding up a heavy wooden cross."The young man's name was Richard Samples and he said his aunt was a supervisor at the (Atlantis Plastics) plant where the shootings occurred. He couldn't get hold of her. . . we prayed together."As Franklin, 59, recalled the encounter, several motorists honked and a woman approached on foot, thanking him for passing through the area to preach at local churches, hold revivals and pray at street corners."I'm praying for your community," Franklin said, taking her hand.In Henderson, a quiet western Kentucky town of 28,000, it was prayer that many turned to in the aftermath of the early morning mass killing at the plastics plant, where, police said, Wesley Higdon, 25, a plant worker angry over an argument with a co-worker, shot and killed the supervisor and four others before committing suicide.Just a few blocks away in downtown Henderson, diners and merchants said the shootings left them in a state of shock."Atlantis is a nice place. A lot of people have worked there for years," said 45-year-old Carter Wilkerson, owner of Homecrafter's Paint and Glass on North Main Street. "It's a family place, not like a factory. Someone was in a few minutes ago and said the mother of one of his friends worked there, but apparently she's okay."Henderson Mayor Tom Davis said news of the shootings left him "with an empty feeling. Right now, we're in shock. I don't remember anything of this magnitude happening here. . . "It's been some time since we've had a multiple homicide."At the Downtown Diner, where fried green tomatoes are a staple, retiree Bill Bridwell said, "I can't understand why people get that way, but they do. It can happen anywhere.""It's just a messed up world," said his coffee companion, Clark Cannon, 48.John Bassett, a 57-year-old oilfield salesman, heard about the shootings because his daughter-in-law works at the local hospital and was called in."We're a close-knit community, so it's going to have a ripple effect. So many people know each other..."Glenda Walker, a Downtown drycleaners employee, said, "You just don't expect anything like this to happen here."An AT&T employee seated nearby agreed. "It could happen anywhere," said the man, who didn't want his name used, but noted, "I don't think there's any legislation that will stop things like this from happening."Outside the diner, just a block from the Ohio River, Tony Royster of the Henderson County Detention Center was supervising a community corrections crew with a downtown clean-up project."I don't know who makes the call on whether flags should be at half-staff. I imagine the governor."Back at Second and Green, Franklin continued to kneel and pray, occasionally sipping from a red Gatorade drink the young man he prayed for had brought him.At 5 p.m., the town held a prayer vigil on the Henderson County Courthouse steps. One resident said it would be hard to find anyone in Henderson who didn't know one of those killed."We are grieving with ... all the victims' families and everyone whose lives have been touched by this tragedy and asking God to give them his hand of comfort and love," said Freida Alexander, pastor at Bellview United Methodist Church.(Rich Davis is a reporter for The Evansville Courier in Indiana.)
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