On a Monday evening that began like any other, Davis was enjoying the quintessential New York experience: a dinner shared with close friends. Those who knew her describe her as a woman of warmth and intellect, someone who cherished the communal nature of a good meal and the lively exchange of ideas that defines the city’s social fabric. As the dinner concluded around 9 pm, she set off toward the train station, a routine walk that millions of New Yorkers perform daily without a second thought. She was a fixture of the city, a person who moved through its grid with the familiarity of a local and the poise of a performer. However, as she attempted to cross the intersection near the heart of the Theater District—an area she had likely traversed countless times throughout her career—the trajectory of her life was violently altered.
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