For the past two years, I’ve worked as an investigator for the New York Civilian Complaint Review Board (CCRB), a municipal agency that investigates complaints of police misconduct. Our agency works closely with the NYPD, particularly its Internal Affairs division. On the morning of Sept. 11, I was sitting in an investigator’s training class in Internal Affairs headquarters. My class was composed of NYPD detectives, sergeants, a lieutenant and one other investigator from the CCRB. We’d been in class for almost 30 minutes when we were informed that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. We all went to a window looking onto Greenwich St., which runs straight to the towers, which were 10-15 blocks away from the building we were in. We saw the south tower smoking and assumed, like everyone else, that what had happened was an accident. Approximately 15 minutes later, a sergeant came into our classroom and informed us that the north tower had been hit and that the Pentagon had also been hit. The realization of what was happening hit in a flash of pure, raw horror.

All of us ran back to the window and watched the massive plumes of black smoke choke out that day’s cloudless blue sky. We could see, and a nearby television magnified for us, people in the buildings waving what looked like sheets to call attention to the fact that they were still alive and needed to be rescued. We were ushered back into our classroom. All of the officers were put on “alert”-meaning that they would need to be ready to receive their assignments and go out in whatever it was that was unfolding outside.

When the first building fell, all hell broke loose. Officers were sent out. All of us were informed that the building we were in also housed FBI offices and thus was a potential target. Several officers were assigned posts to “secure” our building. Myself, my co-worker, and other officers proceeded to help construct a “command center” in what used to be our classroom. We brought in phones, made maps of the area, set up computers, answered phone calls from officers’ families, and helped to brief high-ranking officers that started arriving to the office.

As I watched the first building fall, I realized, through the cloud of shock, that my agency’s offices were just two blocks south of the towers. The attacks happened at the time that all of my co-workers were either in the office or commuting to work (we regularly commuted through the first floor of the World Trade Center mall). Cell phone communications were out, most regular phone circuits were jammed, and I couldn’t get in touch with anyone in the city from where I was.

At approximately 2 p.m., building security was relaxed a bit and I was able to leave. I walked, stunned, through the empty streets, occasionally running into people who were similarly dazed. Some of them were covered in dust. I finally was able to get in touch with my friend, Colin Flanagan-Morgan ’97, who was in an apartment nearby. After a couple of hours of watching television in silence, I left and walked back to Brooklyn. It was early evening and subways had just started to run. It didn’t seem like a good idea to ride them under the circumstances, though. I proceeded to walk with hundreds of other people over the Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn. On the way over, we watched as military helicopters and fighter jets flew in circling patterns over our heads and over the smoking hole in lower Manhattan. All I heard anyone say during the walk was the odd “thanks” to the groups of people that had taken it upon themselves to hand out food and water to those of us crossing over from the city.

I made my way to an apartment in Brooklyn filled with Mac alums: Soniya Munshi ’97, Elissa Berger ’97, and Sebastian Riccardi ’97. We sat and watched the news unfold on TV throughout the night. I woke up the next morning to the sound of fighter jets and helicopters. Eventually I was able to get in touch with my friends and co-workers. Thankfully all of them were safe. Many of my co-workers, though, were much too close for comfort to the attack. They stood on the street and watched as the events of that morning unfolded almost directly over their heads. Several of them saw things that will likely take them years to work out. Many had friends that were inside. My roommate, Denis, who also works with me, lost several of his firefighter friends that day.

My co-workers and I just returned to our offices on Oct. 24. Our building was undamaged in the attacks, but had been part of the “frozen zone” around ground zero during the initial cleanup and rescue effort. The past few days have been spent getting used to the fact that we are working approximately 125 yards from the ruins of the World Trade Center. To give a sense of the proximity, the photographs of the remaining facade of the south tower were taken from the corner of Washington and Rector Streets, right outside our offices. Needless to say, life has been very different and we’ve all been supporting our local bars, and each other, very heavily here.

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