Twenty-Five Years Later: Where Was God on September 11th?

It truly is up to us to Never Forget the heroes and victims of September 11th, 2001. But the sad reality is that while the attacks happened twenty-five years ago, September 11th is still taking lives. The NYPD lost 23 members that day. In the years since, hundreds more members of the Department have died from 9/11-related illnesses, including my former partner, Lieutenant Paul Murphy, while thousands more continue to battle cancers and other serious conditions.

Across the entire 9/11 community, the toll is even greater. Thousands of responders and survivors have died in the years since, while tens of thousands continue to live with illnesses associated with their exposure.

Even those of us who survived the attack did not simply walk away from it.

September 11, 2001

That Tuesday morning was Primary Election Day in New York City. I was an NYPD sergeant working a day tour, visiting polling locations.

For me, it began as just another workday. That changed quickly.

The first report we heard was that there had been an explosion at the World Trade Center. My first thought was remarkably mundane: This is going to create absolute havoc with traffic.

As we were pulling up to a polling location, another call came over. A plane had struck the North Tower.

My mind immediately went to a small commuter aircraft or perhaps a sightseeing helicopter. Both were common sights along the Hudson and East Rivers. At that point, the idea that a commercial airliner had deliberately been flown into the World Trade Center was simply beyond comprehension.

Then came the report of the second plane. We knew we were under attack.

My driver took us to the Special Operations Division, where for the first time I was able to see the television coverage. Looking at those images, it became painfully apparent that these were not small aircraft.

I had quit smoking about a week earlier.

I called my wife and told her that I was “quitting quitting.”

I knew a cigarette shop nearby and had my driver stop. I ran inside for a pack and discovered that, of all things, they were out of my brand.

The clerk and I just stared at each other.

I could have bought something else, but for whatever reason, I didn't. I walked back outside almost as if I were trying to process this strange little inconvenience in the middle of everything happening around us.

My driver asked if we were ready to go.

“No,” I told him. “They're out of my brand.”

So we went somewhere else.

I got my cigarettes, and we immediately headed toward Manhattan.

During the drive, I called my wife again and told her where we were going.

She panicked.

“You can't go in,” she told me. “You don't have your vest.”

In one of those strangely funny moments that somehow occur even on the darkest of days, I replied: “They're flying planes into buildings. I don't think my vest is going to help me.”

We had only been married for a couple of years. For her, I think that moment brought a sudden realization of what being married to a police officer could mean.

Because this is what we do.

We run toward the danger, not away from it.

Going In

The drive toward Manhattan was difficult. Cars had been abandoned in the roadway, forcing us to weave around them and drive along the shoulders.

At one point the view ahead opened up and I could see the Twin Towers.

Black smoke billowed from them against an otherwise crystal-clear blue September sky.

When we reached the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, there was a firetruck stopped near the toll plaza. As we were about to pass it, a firefighter jumped out and stopped us.

Before I could really process what was happening, a wall of smoke and debris came pouring out of the tunnel.

Then came civilians.

They were running out, covered from head to toe in gray ash.

For a moment, I thought the tunnel itself had been attacked.

My mind was still focused on one thing: get to the World Trade Center.

I directed my driver toward the Brooklyn Bridge instead.

By the time we got there, we encountered an enormous mass of people trying to get out of Manhattan. It quickly became obvious that we weren't going to drive much farther, so we took the first exit we could.

I remember looking at my driver and saying:

“I have no idea what's going to happen, but it's been an honor working with you.”

I suppose that was the moment when I finally resigned myself to the enormity of what we were heading into, as well as the danger.

We abandoned the car. And then the job changed.

The Never-Ending Wave

Instead of getting to the World Trade Center, we found ourselves helping evacuate civilians.

Much of what followed is a blur.

What I remember most clearly are the people. They just kept coming.

Wave after wave of humanity moved away from Lower Manhattan, looking to police officers, firefighters and anyone else in authority for direction. We treated the injured where we could and kept everyone moving away from the danger.

It seemed endless.

The evacuation of Lower Manhattan that day was extraordinary. Hundreds of thousands fled on foot, while an improvised armada of ferries, tugboats, Coast Guard vessels and private boats carried hundreds of thousands more across the surrounding waterways. Estimates put the number upwards of a million people.

For comparison, the legendary evacuation of Dunkirk during World War II rescued approximately 338,000 Allied troops over nine days.

We did it in nine hours.

Standing there in the middle of it, though, there were no statistics.

There were simply people.

And they didn't seem to end.

Where Was God?

In the years that followed, I was repeatedly asked a question: “Where was God on September 11th?”

As a survivor and as a Christian, I heard it often. Some people asked because they genuinely needed an answer. Others asked out of anger.

Eventually, I realized that I needed an answer of my own.

That search ultimately led me to write my book, Where Was God?

The deeper I went into that question, the more I came to believe something very simple: God was where He always is.

Later that night, when I finally reached Ground Zero, I stood looking at a place I had known intimately. Except now I barely recognized it.

The devastation was almost impossible to comprehend. The pile was indescribable from ground level. Fires burned throughout the debris. Smoke hung everywhere.

Looking at it, I could not understand how anyone could possibly have survived.

And yet, they did.

Approximately 17,000 people were inside the Twin Towers that morning. Nearly 87 percent escaped.

The buildings were only about one-third to one-half occupied when the attacks occurred. Had both towers contained their full populations of roughly 20,000 people each, investigators would later estimate that approximately 14,000 people might have died because there would not have been enough time to evacuate them all.

The towers stood 110 stories high—more than a quarter-mile into the sky.

Yet neither toppled sideways across Lower Manhattan.

One structural engineer would later estimate that had a tower fallen outward into the surrounding city, casualties might have reached 100,000.

None of that diminishes the almost unimaginable loss of 2,977 innocent lives that day, but it reminds us that amid an act designed to produce death on an almost incomprehensible scale, thousands upon thousands lived.

For hours afterward, we desperately hoped survivors would continue to be found beneath the rubble.

One more was.

The Angel in the Rubble

Her name was Genelle Guzman-McMillan.

Genelle was a Port Authority employee working on the 64th floor of the North Tower. She and several coworkers managed to descend more than fifty floors before the building collapsed around them.

She had made it to approximately the 13th floor. Then the world came down.

Genelle survived inside a tiny pocket beneath the mountain of concrete and steel. Badly injured and unable to free herself, she remained trapped for approximately 27 hours and she prayed.

Genelle has recounted that while she lay beneath the rubble, believing she might die there, she asked God to save her and promised that if He gave her another chance at life, she would change the way she lived.

Eventually she heard voices.

She cried out and worked at the debris with the one hand she could move.

Then, according to Genelle, a hand reached through the rubble and took hers.

A man reassured her.

His name, he told her, was Paul.

For Genelle, what happened beneath that rubble became something much more than a rescue. She came to believe that God had answered her prayer.

She ultimately described that experience in her memoir, Angel in the Rubble.

And at approximately midday on September 12th, after some 27 hours buried beneath the ruins of the North Tower, Genelle Guzman-McMillan became the last person pulled alive from the World Trade Center rubble.

And What About Me?

God didn't cause September 11th.

Men did.

But I believe God moved in the lives of those who rescued people that day.

I believe He moved in the lives of firefighters and police officers climbing stairwells while thousands of people were coming down.

I believe He moved through the paramedics, construction workers, ferry captains, tugboat crews and ordinary citizens who saw people in danger and chose to help them.

I believe He was present in the seemingly insignificant delays that caused some people to arrive late for work that morning.

And I believe God saved me with something as insignificant as a pack of cigarettes.

It wasn't until much later that I put the timing together. Had that first store had my brand of cigarettes, I would have been further along on my journey into Manhattan.

Based on our route and timing, I believe I would have been at the South Tower around the time it collapsed.

Of all the things that happened to me that day, that delay is one I have never forgotten.

A cigarette store didn't have my brand that day, but it gave me the next twenty-five years.

Twenty-Five Years Later

September 11th demonstrated the extraordinary things human beings are capable of doing to one another, but it also demonstrated the extraordinary things human beings are capable of doing for one another.

For me, that distinction matters.

The Bible begins with humanity being given a perfect world—and choosing to turn away from God. We have been living with the consequences of human choices ever since.

September 11th, like so many horrific events throughout human history, demonstrated the terrible depths to which mankind can descend when hatred consumes the human heart and faith itself becomes twisted into a justification for evil.

So perhaps, after twenty-five years, the question isn't simply: “Where was God?”

Perhaps the question we should be asking is: “Where are we?”

What have we done with the years we have been given?

What have we done for the people around us?

Have we remembered those who never received another morning after September 11th?

Have we remembered those who survived that day, only to lose their lives years later because of it?

Have we remembered the families who still carry those empty places at their tables?

And have we remembered how, on one of the darkest days in American history, ordinary people did extraordinary things for complete strangers?

Never Forget cannot simply be something we say once a year.

It has to mean something.

If you have never trusted in God, I would encourage you to reach out to Him. On this 25th anniversary, as we remember those we lost and those we continue to lose, I leave you with the words of John 3:16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

May we never forget those who were taken from us.

May we never forget those who ran toward the danger.

May we never forget those who are still suffering.

And may we never forget how precious—and how uncertain—the gift of another day truly is.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

May God bless you, and may God bless all those whose lives were forever changed on September 11th, 2001.

Passing of Country Music Icon Toby Keith (1961-2024)

It is with profound sadness that I woke up this morning to the news that country music legend, Toby Keith, passed away after his battle with stomach cancer.

Toby was an amazing songwriter and musician, but as an NYPD 9/11 First Responder, he held a very dear place in my heart. While he is known for such hits as: Should’ve Been a Cowboy, Whiskey Girl, Beer For My Horses, and How Do You Like Me Know? the song that resonated deepest for me was: Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.

In the aftermath of the 9/11 Terror Attacks, there were three defining songs: Alan Jackson’s Where Were You? Darryl Worley’s Have You Forgotten, and the aforementioned Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue. These songs seemed to encapsulate the many emotions we faced as a nation: Pain and Resolve.

Toby put into words what we were all feeling in those dark days of September:

“Now this nation that I love has fallen under attack
A mighty sucker punch came flyin' in from somewhere in the back
Soon as we could see clearly
Through our big black eye
Man, we lit up your world
Like the fourth of July”

I remember once reading that it was a controversial song, and a knee-jerk reaction, and I felt dismayed. America is not perfect, but no country ever is, but there is a reason why everyone looks to us; wants to come here. For all our faults, we stand as a beacon for freedom and liberty. Our politicians might suck, but the average American has a heart of gold and will give you the shirt off their back if you are in need. We look upon the American flag with reverence, because we know the awful price that has been paid for the freedoms we enjoy. To paraphrase USMC General James Mattis, America is "No Better Friend, No Worse Enemy."

It is a sad day for me, but, like so many of country music’s great singers, Toby’s music will live on. Outspoken, fearless, and unapologetically patriotic, he was undeniably country and he famously put into words what we were all feeling so many years ago. As a cancer survivor, and someone who lost his partner to this cruel disease, let me say this from the bottom of my heart: Fuck Cancer.

God Bless and Rest in Peace, Toby.

REMEMBERING SEPTEMBER 10TH, 2001

“Where were you on September 11th, 2001?”

It’s a question I have heard asked countless times over the last two plus decades. Everyone recalls where they were on that fateful day when they heard the news about the terrorist attacks in NYC, Shanksville, PA and the Pentagon. I’m no different, and I wrote about my story in my book: Where Was God? An NYPD first responder’s search for answers following the terror attack of September 11th 2001.

But for many of us, the memories of 9/11 don’t begin on that day. There is an emotional lead up that culminates in 9/10; the last day before our world was forever and irrevocably changed. I’m sure if I had the chance to speak with a veteran who was at Pearl Harbor on December 6th, 1941, they would share the same story. Remembering the last time that things were ever ‘normal.’

I remember September 10th.

I spent the evening watching Monday Night Football, sitting in bed feeling frustrated, because I had to get up early the next morning to cover the NYC primary election. I was glued to the game, watching my beloved NY Giants eventually lose to the Denver Broncos.  

That’s my last memory of normal.

At that time I had been a cop for over 15 years. I thought I had seen just about everything, but a few hours after waking up, I would learn just how wrong I was.

For the 23 members of the service we lost on 9/11, they never enjoyed another normal day. Twenty-Two years later, many of us have been forced to embrace a new normal, as we struggle with health issues due to exposure of toxins at Ground Zero. The scourge of cancer almost loses its sting when you realize that it is most likely not a question of if, but when.

You reflect a lot on the fact that 9/11 wasn’t a singular terrorist attack, but a generational one that continues to claim lives two decades later. It’s difficult to embrace normal when you get constant notifications alerting you that we’ve lost another first responder to a 9/11 illness.   

Tomorrow politicians and pundits will dust off the tired old mantra: Never Forget, but the reality is we are forgotten; only remembered one day a year and then put back into the closest until the next anniversary. The majority of them have never had to struggle with having a normal day. The constant political fight to fund the 9/11 Health Program proves just how quickly they forget and move on.

Today I reflect on what life was like before that day and tomorrow I will mourn those we lost; killed in the initial attack or its lingering aftermath. Tomorrow will be about ‘remembering the heroes,’ but knowing that the door will close again on September 12th for another year.

WTC Cross Photo courtesy of Anne Bybee-Williams © 2001

September 11th – Never Forget

It’s funny to me that each September you begin hearing the words ‘Never Forget’ being repeated.

I don’t say this dismissively, and I am truly grateful to all those who remember the bravery and faithfulness of our fallen, but as I look around at what is going on in this country I cannot help but feel these words are becoming hollow platitudes.

Just recently, the 9/11 community was in an all-out political battle to fight for funding to treat many of us who are sick as a result of the toxins we ingested back then. September 12th, 2002, united this country and gave rise to the words ‘Never Forget.’ Yet the same politicians who draped themselves in the flag and chastised us to not forget were the very same ones who pushed back on the promise this country made to us.

I look around and I am deeply troubled, as I see this new generation, many whom were not even alive when the terror attack occurred, desecrating memorials to our fallen heroes and victims, because they go against their current world view. Those people who have never put themselves in harm’s way for another human being, mocking those that gave the last full measure.

 The words ‘Never Forget’ mean something different to a select few. While the world proclaims that we should Never Forget, some understand that for them it is ‘Can’t Forget.’

Can’t Forget means that you can never look at a clear blue sky and find comfort.

Can’t Forget means that the sound of a low flying plane sends a wave of panic through you.

Can’t Forget means that in the shadow of a global pandemic a mask brings no comfort, only bad memories.

Can’t Forget means that the sight of flames and the scent of acrid smoke forever rekindles a hell that no one should ever know.

Can’t Forget means that to those who wear this, you are bound to a brother & sisterhood that is sacred, not for what we did, but for what they gave:  Fidelis Ad Mortem

NYPD World Trade Center Medal

Can’t Forget means that, by the grace of God, you survived, but the names and faces of those we lost are forever etched into our hearts and minds.

“From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.” - William Shakespeare’s Henry V

Chernobyl & Memories of September 11th, 2001

I recently saw a post on social media discussing the new HBO mini-series: Chernobyl, so I thought I would check it out. Before I was an author, I was a NYC cop. I remember when the incident occurred back in April 1986, and all the ensuing media coverage. What I didn’t expect was the flashbacks I would experience and the parallels, to what occurred on September 11th that I would be presented with.

First, let me say that, from a historical perspective, I highly recommend watching this show. They have done an amazing job and it is quite compelling. That being said, as I watched it I began feeling more and more anxious and recalling my time in lower Manhattan following the September 11th terror attack.

Here are a few reasons:

1.       After the explosion at Chernobyl, police and fire responded to the scene, completely unaware of the dangers they would soon face. Even after they realized something wasn’t right, they continued to stay and perform their duty. By the same example, on the morning of September 11th, it was obvious we were under attack, but that didn’t mean anything to the first responders. Even after the South Tower fell, everyone remained behind; and continued in the evacuation and rescue efforts.

 2.       Residents from nearby Pripyat gathered on a train trestle to watch the incident in the distance, unaware of the danger that lurked in front of them. In one scene, you can see the radioactive ash that was being carried along by the wind, enveloping the onlookers, while children played in it. It became known as the Bridge of Death. Sadly, I remember the streets of lower Manhattan being covered in the same ash. It wasn’t radioactive, but it was certainly contaminated with toxins. Everywhere you walked you breathed it in and kicked it up with your footfalls. It reminded me of a grey snowstorm, but instead of it being a winter wonderland it was actually a nightmare.

 3.       In one scene, a mask is given to one of the miners, brought in to dig beneath the destroyed reactor. He asks if the mask will do anything, and the reply is ‘probably not.’ The same thing happened on 9/11, when we were given basic painters masks to wear. It seemed ludicrous to me, knowing the masks provided zero protection from the particles we were dealing with. It was so bad that even the cartridges on the heavy duty respirators were clogging in minutes. There is only so much you can do before you end up just accepting your fate and work without the useless equipment.

 4.       Lies – Socialism is many things, but transparent it is not. The residents and responders were lied to ‘for their own good.’ The international community was even lied to when they were told the situation at Chernobyl was minor and that it was under control. Everything was about assuaging their fears, but the reality was that the lies were all designed to protect the government, not the citizens. We like to believe that our government is different, but it is not. After 9/11, the focus was on returning New York City (and the Stock Market) back to normal, as quickly as possible, following the attack. The EPA Director came out and emphatically stated that the air around Ground Zero was safe; it wasn’t and they knew that. It was bad enough that they lied to the first responders and construction workers, but they re-opened the area and exposed innocent civilians to risk, many of whom are now sick and dying. There was no consideration given to the secondary contamination risk and the majority of us brought our uniforms and gear home, exposing out families to the toxins. Sadly, the government won’t even acknowledge this, even though the data shows an increase in medical illnesses among family members versus the general public. In the case of Chernobyl, the State was aware of a flaw in the RBMK reactors, but they chose to bury that fact. Prior to 9/11, the government was aware that there was actionable intelligence of a planned attack, yet this fact was kept out of the 9/11 Commission Report. Ironically, the death toll from Chernobyl is estimated between 3,000 and 100,000 (initial explosion and long term sickness), although the official number stands at only 31. We lost 3,000 people in the initial attack on the World Trade Center site and since then almost the same number have died and there are nearly 100,000 people that are sick from their exposure.

 5.       Promises – Interestingly enough, the brave men they sent in were promised that the State would take care of them. I wonder how many went in believing that the State would keep its promise, only to find out it was a lie. It’s easy to promise something in the middle of a crisis, but when the crisis is over memories fade quickly. Today, 17 years after the terror attack of September 11th, the heroes and victims are still fighting our government to receive the care and compensation they were promised. Today, June 11th, 2019, Actor / Comedian Jon Stewart and many of the responders testified before Congress. Sadly, while the gallery was packed with those who were sick and dying, very few representatives even bothered to show up for the hearing. I don’t think I can put it any more poignantly than Mr. Stewart did: “What an incredible metaphor this room is for the entire process that getting healthcare and benefits for 9/11 first responders has come to. Behind me, a filled room of 9/11 first responders—and in front of me, a nearly empty Congress."

 At the end of the HBO show I was left asking myself a very difficult question: What separates the United States from Soviet Russia? The answer I arrived at: Nothing.

This isn’t an indictment of our system of government, but rather it is an indictment of our governmental leaders. The people of the Soviet Union didn’t elect their leaders, but we did. We expected them to be different, but in the end they caved to their own greed and hubris, just like those in the former USSR. This isn’t a democrat or republican problem, it is a CONGRESS problem. Both sides have turned their back on the victims and heroes.

To be fair, when the renewal for the Victim’s Compensation Fund came up, many eagerly jumped on to co-sponsor the bill, but they were the exception, rather than the rule. No, the vast majority of those current sponsors have had to be forced to support it. To them #NeverForget is a catchy phase they dust-off once a year; a campaign slogan that is hollow. It doesn’t personally affect them and they don’t care. The only time they care is when they are shamed into it at the threat of a political challenge.

No, the people of the Soviet Union didn’t have a choice, but we do.

I implore you, as a 9/11 cancer survivor, on behalf of all those who are sick and dying from the toxins they ingested, take one moment and contact your elected representatives and demand they take action to fully fund the Victim’s Compensation Fund. This September 11th should send a resounding signal to those who gave every last measure that day that their sacrifices will Never Be Forgotten.

Please remember to sign-up for my FREE monthly Newsletter to stay up to date on the latest information.