My Reflection On September 11, 2001

I was in DC for a trial that day. Drive down from Baltimore with just enough time to get into the courtroom before the jury was called in. The car radio had been stolen so I had no idea what was going on in the world. I was shocked when the judge told us the country was under attack and so we would not have court that day. Or, the next. Or the next…

The DC Superior Court Building was evacuated. As I was making my way out, ATF officers were rushing in. Fear, and reality, began to set in at that moment. I learned years later that an unattended briefcase behind the courthouse was thought to be a bomb. It was “neutralized”, My husband’s DC Superior Court judge friend told us.

I had parked my car in an underground garage. When I went to retrieve it the attendant would not take money. He just said go, find your car, it’s at the very bottom, good luck. I was utterly panicked as I searched for my car and then made my way back to the street. I still have the receipt from that day.

I did get my car and then idled, in one block of super jammed up traffic, for almost an hour. I moved just half a tire roll at a time. In that time I watched as adult after adult after adult walked by my car in tears, went in to the daycare center next door to the garage, and then, emerged with their kids laughing, chattering, animated, being strong. For their kids. I cried at seeing that. It was surreal to observe the parents’ change in affect, for their kids.

Phone service was sporadic at best. I finally got through to a secretary at my office. I gave her the phone numbers for my family, and asked her to call them, to let them know I was okay and heading to Baltimore. It was a sad and crazy bunch of hours making my way out of D.C. I knew I would but, without a radio for distraction I wondered to myself “what if…?”

As bad as things were for me in DC that morning the real horror was ahead. I watched the towers fall. I watched the news non-stop. I watched the second plane fly into the tower over and over and over again. I learned that a friend and former neighbor was on that second plane that went into the WTC. He was heading west, to start a new life, remake himself. Jim Roux. I say his name every year on this day. And pray that his soul and being are at rest, wherever he ended up.