The first step from the pavement onto the muddied skid marks doesn’t seem that bad.

You’re walking on top of the cliff and you can’t see down yet, just straight ahead.

The unplanned path created first by the pickup truck, then by emergency vehicles and finally by the feet of the mourners shows wear and tear. Recent rains have made it dirty. Disrespectful humans have made it trashy.

A Hershey’s candy bar wrapper, a mini-Butterfinger bar’s remains — people always leave their mark.

The haphazard memorial would be tacky if such a word was appropriate in a situation like this.

An American flag poster, plastic flowers, a candle, a headband, personal notes and an upturned cup make an odd collection. The handmade poster board with well-wishing RIP messages intermingled with racial slurs makes the skin tingle for all the wrong reasons.

And then you look down.

Straight down.

More skid marks disrupt the normally tight-knit kudzu. Another makeshift memorial sits at the bottom.

And the tall, skinny, branchless tree tells the true story.

It’s alive, but it’s injured.

The bark at the tree’s base is nearly gone, damaged either by impact or rescue efforts. Or both.

It’s difficult to look down for long. So you don’t. Your eyes climb upward to the racial slurs again.

What kind of person uses slang for black people at the memorial of three dead, white teenagers? Why?

You don’t have long to think about it, because you aren’t alone for long.

More onlookers, more mourners, more gawkers, more sympathizers have arrived.

It’s been two weeks today since Nicholas Kirby, Justin Wiley and Kristen Holmes fled the scene of a brutal fight with friend and drunk driver Cody McJohnson.

McJohnson has been to jail. The other three weren’t that lucky.

It’s been two weeks and the pilgrimage isn’t over. The cars come in a steady stream.

Briel Avenue was likely one of downtown Natchez’s lesser-traveled streets three weeks ago. But since the July 4 accident things have changed.

They come to pray. They come to see. They come to pay tribute or just to think.

Some, like New Orleans resident Mrs. Pike, come to take pictures.

Pike, in town to visit her daughter, was taking the photos home to the teenagers she works with.

“They need to see,” she said.

And so does everyone else.

Visitors from neighboring counties made the trip this weekend, asking for directions to the accident site along the way.

Some visitors walk to the edge for the full view, others never leave their cars.

Still more simply gather on the street for a family reunion of sorts, laughing and carrying on with a few offhand mentions of the “terrible tragedy.”

The site of a tragedy in the lives of four area teens has become the place to be.

Death is hard to touch. People are here one day, gone the next, and the rest of the world is left to carry on.

Human beings like physical connections to things, and sometimes the site of a tragic accident can become the last remaining tie to the dead.

But typically, roadside memorials and frequent pilgrimages are carried on by those closest to the deceased — family and dear friends.

It’s difficult to say what has made the Briel Avenue event such a public spectacle. Accidents happen every day, and they don’t draw attention like this one.

This wreck carries a valuable message for teens and adults alike, but the message isn’t taught by the collection of flowers, the scarred tree or the skid marks. It’s not taught by what is left.

It’s taught by who isn’t.

Julie Finley is the managing editor of The Natchez Democrat. She can be reached at 601-445-3551 or Julie.finley@natchezdemocrat.com.