The Story Behind The Image(s); The Tragedy OF 9/11; The World Trade Center In Ruins

Scene of the World Trade Center terrorist attack.  (click to enlarge)

Everyone of you knows what happened on September 11, 2001.  I would be very surprised if any of you don't.  It was a day that changed my life.  At the time, I was the chief of police in one of Virginia's largest cities loaded with military establishments, major Department of Defense contractors, natural gasoline pipelines, waterworks, an international airport, bridges and tunnels over major waterways, etc.  In other words, more prime targets for terrorism than you can imagine.

The morning of September 11th, I was in my office speaking with one of my background investigators.  We were discussing some of the individuals who had applied to be police officers.  My phone rang and it was my wife.  She asked me if I had seen what had just happened in New York City.  I told her no, I had been working in my office. She told me a jet crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers and I should turn on the television in my office and watch the coverage.  I turned it on.  The news was on and they showed a jet crashing into one of the World Trade Center (WTC) towers.  My first thought was of the 1945 B-25 bomber that crashed halfway up and into the Empire State Building, not too far from where the World Trade Center was located.  I thought to myself, "How in the world, with today's electronic navigation systems, could this happen," only to immediately be told by the news broadcaster that the jet I saw was a second one.  Immediately I knew these acts were intentional and terroristic in nature.

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Everything changed for me at that moment! Everything.  Immediately I gathered my staff and we quickly assessed what needed to be done to determine where potential targets existed in the city and how to protect them.  Even more importantly, to assure our citizens that they were safe. Contacting utility companies, barricades around the major defense contractors' property, liaison with the military, etc.  At that time, no one knew if the WTC, the Pentagon and the Capitol were the only targets.  I won't go on, but as I said, the manner in which we approached our duties everyday changed forever.  The way we had to think had to change as well.

Let's skip forward a month.  Things somewhat settled down as we had a handle on local potential targets and we had a solid plan for prevention and response.  The International Association of Chiefs of Police annual conference was held in Toronto that year.  I planned on attending as the conference agenda would heavily revolve around terrorism.  Things we all needed to know.

I had planned on taking the train to Toronto.  Those of you who know me understand I love riding trains and will take the train whenever I have an opportunity.  My train route would take me through New York City and early the next morning, the train would leave NYC and travel to Toronto.  I had high ranking police contacts in New York and I made some.  My contact offered to take me down to the WTC site.  Of course, I wanted to see it in person.  How could I not?  I was warned that the site was still being searched for remains and workers were there 24 hours a day stabilizing, dismantling and removing the massive rubble.  Also, I was told that the air was somewhat poisonous and I might want to reconsider.  I declined to pass up this opportunity.

Before we left the train's arrival area, I was told that the WTC site was to be held in great reverence.  Everything about it was to be treated with the greatest respect due to the thousands of lives lost, both of those in the buildings as well as the first responders.  I indicated I would like to make some images, but they discouraged me.  I had a small Leica Minilux point-and-shoot film camera equipped with a very highly regarded 40mm f/2.4 prime lens.  The camera was loaded with an ISO 100 print film and, as dark as it was becoming, I wasn't sure it was even worthwhile asking to take it. I showed them that small camera and asked if I was discrete, did they think it would be okay to make a few images with it?  They shook their heads in the affirmative.

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It was dusk when we arrived at the WTC site  We parked about a block away from the site.  My escort told me that this was as close as he could park.  He gave me the only hard hat and safety glasses available, pointed in the direction I was to walk and told me he would wait for me until my return.  I was alone walking through this very eerie place.  Distant sounds of machinery could be heard.  I wondered if anyone would stop me and prevent me from entering the site.

When I arrived, teams of searchers and cadaver dogs could be seen in several places. Smoldering rubble still smoked in all directions.  Debris hung perilously from what was left of the structures.  Heavy construction equipment droned out other sounds.  Flames could be seen on occasion.  The place was still "hot," so to speak with sights, sounds, smells and activity.  This was an active crime scene.

I stopped and, honestly, just stared in disbelief.  I was awestruck.  I was in the middle of the worst U.S. catastrophe of my lifetime.  It seemed like minutes as I just stood there taking it all in.  I couldn't bring myself to move.  Finally, after unsuccessfully trying to comprehend what enveloped me, I moved more toward the middle of the rubble, cranes and dedicated workers.  I raised my little Leica discreetly and made about 8 exposures.  I didn't have any idea if any of them would result in any kind of decent image, but I knew I had to record what I saw—for myself as much as for any other reason.  I needed to remember my immersion in this steel and concrete cemetery.

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After standing, listening and watching for about 10 minutes, I noticed my throat starting to burn a little.  I figured it was time for me to leave.  As I came, I left; discretely, reverently and trying to remain unnoticed.

I don't think I've ever shared this story and these images publicly before, maybe one of the photos, but after the recent anniversary of this event, it has again, been on my mind everyday.  In fact, I tried to watch a couple of the memorial events and found myself breaking down.  I had no idea both of those days, the catastrophe itself and then the day of my visit, would be bubbling under the surface for all of these years.  I still am having a hard time dealing with what I saw and mostly how I felt.  I find it somewhat peculiar that, earlier in my law enforcement career,  I had investigated well over a hundred deaths of all sorts, seen and handled mangled and decomposing bodies, saw families ripped apart by crime, lost friends to murder, but none of that seems to stick with me as much as September 11, 2001.

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My heart and admiration go out to the victims' families, the first responders who perished as well as the men and women who worked, and still work, to deal with the aftermath of this international tragedy.  I salute each of you and will forever keep you in my thoughts and prayers.

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Terrorism is striking almost weekly around the world.  I just don't understand the hate.  I don't understand killing in the name of God. Let's hope somehow this madness stops soon. Maybe if everyone prayed...

Thanks for reading and looking at this post. I don't normally write personal things but this story is still important to me.  Writing about it is therapeutic and is helpful.  Enjoy! 

Dennis A. Mook 

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