Kari's Funeral, Take 3

I wish I could write longer than I normally do. I have a fair amount to get through, and only so much time available to me, which could be greater or lesser depending on how Martin is feeling. On nights like this, when he's been drinking, I know I have less time, so this might be a short one.
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There were some other testimonials which, for the sake of narrative convenience I will skip over, but I am going to touch on one, just because I feel it’s important. Especially considering why I’m taking the time to tell you about Kari in the first place.
    A young mother came to the front, holding a baby in her arms. She stood for a moment, and then began to speak.
    “I’m not gonna talk long. I know we all wanna get to the reception and I’m not much for talkin’ anyway.” She looked back at the coffin, then at the gathered crowd.
    “My name’s Jackie. I’m a single mother. On August twenty-third, I was standing at the corner of Columbus and Collins. It was three-thirty in the afternoon. We didn’t know it, but Eight-Twenty-Three had just happened. The Divide had gassed Atlanta, though no one here knew it yet. At the same time, hundreds of bombs went off in twelve major cities, including this one.
    “We all know that. We know that Kari was caught up in one of the bomb blasts and killed. What you don’t know was the exact circumstances of her death, but that’s what I’m here to tell you.”
    A murmur ran through the audience. Surely this wasn’t the place or the time to recount her murder, right?
    Jackie proved them all wrong.