An 18-year-old suspect, Jamerian Anders, is behind bars after a gang-related shooting rattled Franklinton, Louisiana, on Sunday evening, March 2, 2025, leaving five people injured in the wake of the Pepe Mardi Gras parade.
The gunfire erupted around 7:00 p.m., just as the festive crowd along Washington Street was winding down from the annual celebration, a beloved event in this small town 60 miles north of New Orleans.
Franklinton Police Department officers, already posted along the parade route, sprinted toward the chaos, finding a scene of panic—people running, screams cutting through the night air, and bodies on the ground.
When the dust settled, police had five victims on their hands, all hit by bullets in what authorities are calling a targeted gang clash. Medics swarmed in, tending to the wounded as cops locked down the area near 11th Avenue, not far from where floats had rolled by hours earlier.
“It went from laughter to gunfire in a heartbeat,” a parade-goer said, still clutching a string of beads as officers worked. Anders was nabbed right there, pinned down by police who say he’s the lone gunman, now facing five counts of attempted first-degree murder—a heavy charge for a teen barely out of high school.
The toll on the victims paints a stark picture: two got patched up at Riverside Medical Center and walked away, shaken but alive, while three others weren’t so lucky. They’re still in the hospital, one fighting for life in critical condition, tubes and monitors keeping them tethered to hope.
“We’re praying hard for that one,” a nurse whispered outside the ER, summing up the town’s mood as news spread. The police aren’t spilling much yet on what sparked the shooting—just that it’s tied to gang beef simmering beneath Franklinton’s surface, a tension that’s flared up before in Washington Parish but rarely with such public fallout.
Franklinton’s Mardi Gras, known for its quirky Pepe theme—a nod to a local legend—usually brings joy, not bloodshed, making this all the harder to swallow. The parade’s end was supposed to be floats and music, not ambulances and handcuffs.
Officers had been on alert, expecting rowdy crowds, but not this—a burst of violence that turned beads into bullets. “We thought we were safe here,” a vendor said, packing up early as the crowd thinned and police lights took over. Anders’ arrest came quick, but questions linger—why now, why here, and who else might’ve been in on it?
The Franklinton Police Department’s got their hands full, digging into the mess as the town tries to shake off the shock. Five lives altered in an instant, and a suspect in custody doesn’t erase the sting—especially with one victim teetering on the edge.
“This isn’t what Mardi Gras is about,” a local grumbled, kicking at the dirt where the parade had passed. Cops are keeping quiet on the deeper motive, promising more when they’ve got it, but for now, Jamerian Anders sits locked up, facing a future shaped by a Sunday night that went from celebration to carnage in Franklinton’s streets.