"Candidly Yours"

September 15, 2001

And Then He Just ... Disappeared
by Linda A. Prussen-Razzano

At 8:00 a.m. on the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001, a New York City Police Officer was working his regular beat. It was an exceptionally sparkling day, temperate weather, the sun shining brightly. Within two hours, he would be knee deep in the greatest carnage ever to visit upon the City, fighting valiantly to direct the fleeing occupants of the World Trade Center Towers towards emergency personnel. Twice that morning he would be forced to pull back from the destruction as both Towers toppled in horrific splendor.

The surviving victims clung to him briefly as he ushered them away from the danger, their hands gripping at his arm like desperate swimmers amidst a stormy sea. One woman, so overcome with emotion, kissed his badge. His years of military service and on the police force kept him focused, as the world fell apart around him.

Among the incidents the officer conveyed to his anxious wife during several reassuring cell-phone calls that morning, was the story of a man, his arm badly mangled, who approached him in a state that could only be described as shock. As the officer attempted to comfort the man and direct him to medical attention, the gentleman turned and advised, "He just disappeared."

"Sir, who disappeared?"

"The officer. I was trying to get out of the building, and an officer came to help me. He shoved me out of the way. I turned around, and then he just…disappeared."

Disappeared, the officer realized numbly, under the collapsing tower.

In the bleak, frenzied 34 hours that followed, the officer saw things his training had prepared him for, but his heart did not want to accept. Scores of lifeless bodies, destruction so immense the entire ground was a blanket of ash, glass, and shattered debris, and cold pieces of what were once human beings. In one instance, the rescue workers found only a woman’s hand, her wedding ring still on her finger. It was nearly inconceivable that a husband might have to look at that hand, at that ring, to confirm the identity of the woman he chose for his beloved wife.

The officer's 5-year old daughter cried for her daddy that Tuesday night, only to be put to bed without him there. It was not until the following evening they did reunite, her "prince" returning in soul-weary exhaustion, collapsing beside her and his wife. Just six hours later, he was heading back to the city for another marathon stint near "ground zero." Ever present in everyone’s minds are thoughts of those families who will not be reunited.

Their personal losses are still mounting. The officer himself knows of several officers who are missing. A fire department and EMS center that share his beat are gone. Even his wife received saddening news. A longtime family friend from South Hempstead (which is on Long Island) was a firefighter on the scene at the time of the collapse. His truck was found, but he and all his crew have vanished.

In nearby Great Neck, also on Long Island, John Warner, an accountant, was heading towards work when the news of the first crash interrupted the sports broadcast. Originally thinking it was a studio prank, Mr. Warner slowly came to the awful conclusion that this was no joke. Even then, he dismissed it as some "schmuck" trying unsuccessfully to fly a small plane between the two towers. Only later did he recognize that people were in grave danger, as the seriousness of the situation began to unfold. By the time the second tower collapsed, he and fellow employees at Kamler, Lewis, and Noreman were standing on the roof of their building, stunned expressions accompanying the tower’s disappearance from the New York skyline.

Meanwhile, his wife, Kate, and their son, Alex, were driving up the Meadowbrook Parkway towards Long Island Jewish. Mrs. Warner was listening intently to the radio when the first tower fell. The traffic on the Parkway experienced an almost simultaneous slowdown, as if everyone was mentally rubbernecking the same terrible multi-car accident. In nearly unified horror, foots lifted from accelerators, minds reeled in disbelief.

Mrs. Warner would later learn that her cousin, James Haran, was among the missing.

In Suffolk County, Long Island, Mrs. Sharon Bachmann was sitting at her desk at ADP waiting anxiously for news about her family and several friends. The year prior, she had turned down a transfer to the World Trade Center; newly married and purchasing her first home, she did not want to make the long, daily trek into Manhattan. As grueling hours passed, she received news that was both uplifting and devastating. Her two brothers were alive and well, but the entire division working on a joint project with Cantor Fitzgerald was missing.

It’s been several days since America, as we know it, changed forever.

For these tangential victims, the survivors touched by this brutality, one can still hear a strange mixture of shocked outrage and hopeful denial. Yet under these emotions, a thrum of resolution rings clear.

They want justice – by any means possible. ***

© 2001 Linda Prussen-Razzano

· NYPD Patch courtesy of the New York Police Department