Journey Through the Great Sadness

Not long after the Pentagon was attacked, it was discovered another plane had been hijacked. Thanks to the bravery of those on board Flight 93, another building and perhaps thousands of lives were spared. By this point, some of the students had gone home; many simply felt helpless.

I, however, didn’t leave. In fact, I didn’t leave for nearly four hours. I couldn’t. I was simply paralyzed by fear. Almost as soon as the Pentagon was hit, I went back to the long assignment I had previously worked on reviewing the effects of weapons of mass destruction. It was clear that we were attacked. This was terrorism in our own backyard. I had talked to so many people about terrorism but none of them ever came up with this type of scenario. And none of them expected it to happen in our country. Moreover, I kept wondering what was on those planes. Were they done with the crashing of the planes or was there more to come with anthrax or some other WMD releasing into the sky as each plane exploded. I didn’t want to find out, so I stayed.

I called Mike, the CBN News Bureau Chief.

“I guess the interview is off, huh?” I said jokingly.

“You bet,” he replied. “But we need you. Get in here as quick as you can.”

Uh-oh. I had to come up with something. I wasn’t ready to cover this yet. I told him that I didn’t have any of my press passes with me and that most folks were being kept out of DC. Of course, none of this was true. I had my press passes, and I probably could have gotten into DC although it would have been hectic and it would have taken a few hours at best. But I didn’t want to go outside and the last thing I wanted to do was get stuck in a metal tube shooting under the grounds of a town that had just been attacked. Was the Metro next?

Mike agreed to let me come in the next morning to relieve those who would be working through the night on this unfolding story. I was relieved but felt incredible guilt. What in the world could I have done as a journalist covering this story? Nothing. Yet I still felt guilty. Maybe I felt guilty because I was just scared to death. I don’t know.

I finally decided to leave. My apartment was just about four miles from the school. It took me four-and-a-half hours to get home. Incoming traffic lanes were now outgoing lanes in an effort to relieve the decongestion from throngs of people trying to leave DC.

For a town filled with people stuck on themselves and unwilling to help, on this day nothing could be further from the truth. People waited patiently. It was hot – incredibly hot – so a few folks passed around bottled water, especially to those with little ones in the car. No one was a stranger as some cried openly on the shoulders of others as we stood in the streets waiting for the traffic jam to clear.

The thing I noticed most was the intense heat. It wasn’t exactly a hot day but the heat from the fire at the Pentagon made it even hotter. The black, billowing smoke continued to greet the crisp blue sky. It was visible from everywhere now. The smell of jet fuel floated through the air. Sirens blasted their urgency as they rolled through the streets transporting the injured.

Numb, I finally made it home and held Bojangles (the cat) close to my chest. I sat on the couch with him and watched the unfolding coverage. I wondered if Bo heard the sound. He must have sensed something because he seemed a bit jittery. But he also seemed to recognize my need for companionship at that moment. He rarely left my side. Not long after I had arrived, my friend from downstairs, Brooke, called to see if she could come up to my place. I was happy for the company but at the same token, I wanted to be alone. She cried in disbelief as we watched the coverage. Neither of us had family in the area and we both felt completely alone.

I can’t seem to recall where I first saw the video of the couple jumping to their deaths but I certainly recall everything about that image. It wouldn’t be the last time I would see that type of raw video. I remember watching them as they plummeted to their deaths from dozens of stories in the air and wondered how horrible it must have been inside that building for them to conclude that the better choice was to jump and die. No matter how hard I try, I can’t even begin to fathom that scenario. The other thing I remember about this couple was the look of peace on their faces. I don’t know if they were a romantic couple or office mates or just people who met for the first and last time. His tie floated up and to the side of his face. His arm never thrashed in an attempt to stop himself. He kept her hand in his the whole way down. Her skirt ballooned, and I secretly hoped it would cushion their fall. These are the images I see over and over again in my mind’s eye when I think back to that day.

I thought that was the darkest day of my life but, little did I know of the darkness that was yet to come.