My Survivor's Story

This is the original unedited version of my version of the Oklahoma City Bombing (as it happened to me) posted at the Oklahoma City National Memorial Archives. I just came across it and want to preserve it on my blog. I wrote this in 2000, so please excuse the grammatical errors.


A Survivor's Story

by SThomas
Bilingual Service Representative, Social Security Administration
Originally written Spring 2000

Wednesday, April 19, 1995 started out like any other workday. I drove my usual route from Norman to the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City via Interstate 35. I arrived at the entrance to the building's parking garage at about 8am, and saw one of my co-workers there, Rex Irwin, taking a smoke break. I waved at him and drove into the garage. I then drove down about 2 levels to the parking spot C38. I still remember it.
When I got out of my car, another co-worker's car pulled up beside mine. His name was Raymond Johnson, volunteer from Indian Services. I said good morning to him and walked to the elevator. I rode it to street level. When I got out, another Social Security employee, Chris Torres, was leaving the building. She was headed towards the elevator. She said she did not feel well and was going home. I told her I hoped she felt better, and then I went into the back door to my office. My supervisor Carol Bowers greeted me. She smiled and said good morning. I signed in on the timesheet and went to my desk. I remember asking her some questions about an item I needed help with, and her phone interrupted us. She asked me if I could come back in the afternoon and we could go over it. I said yes and went back to my desk. On my computer was a note from the assistant manager Dennis Purifoy stating that he wanted to meet with all of the bilingual employees at 8:30am to clean out some outdated Spanish forms we no longer needed. We were installing new employee bathrooms at the time in one corner of the stockroom and needed more space.
I remember seeing Sharon Littlejohn, another service rep, come and place her jacket over her chair and walk away. We passed each other and she said good morning to me as I sat down.
Since I knew I had limited time before I had to meet with Dennis, I decided to finish up some Social Security card applications from the previous day. My desk was right up front by the large glass windows facing 5th street. I could see outside, but I do not remember seeing a Yellow Ryder truck pull up to the building.
I looked up at the clock. It was 8:30.
When I got to the stockroom, which was not far from the front of the building, I met with Dennis, Gina Hernandez, Tillie Lerma, and Julie Welch. We were the only bilingual employees in the office, except for Chris Torres, who had left early. Dennis showed us a cabinet full of forms that he thought we should all go through and throw out. He brought us a big garbage can and left us to our work. We started sifting through old forms, leaflets that were outdated, and some other miscellaneous items. We cleaned out as much as we could. At this time we were standing directly underneath a skylight. It was getting close to 9am. I remembered some forms in the back part of the stockroom and told them we should go through those too. We walked to the back where there was no skylight. As we started to go through those forms, Julie said she had to leave to get her 9:00am appointment. It was her first Spanish disability interview. That left Gina, Tillie and me. Gina at the time was a teleservice representative, and worked in the back of the office. So did Tillie. I was assigned to work reception, which was up front. At 9:01 am I said, "I need to go up front." Tillie said, "We don't know when we will get a chance to do this again, so let's get it done. We're almost there."I said, "Okay."
I had in my hands a stack of forms that I started to place on the shelf above me, and suddenly everything went black. A very, very strong force knocked the three of us to the floor. Boxes fell. Shelving crushed around us. I felt a vacuum of air that was very unfamiliar and frightening. I remember holding onto the white wooden cabinet in front of me as it wobbled and shook. Things were falling all around us, hitting our heads, legs...
Then it got really quiet. I think the three of us were so stunned we couldn?t speak. We reached around in desperation for each other's hands, shouting in scared and alarmed voices. Once we knew we were all okay, one of us asked where Julie was. I don't remember which one it was. We were quite disoriented about this time. Nobody was coming. I thought, "Well certainly somebody knows we're back here and will dig us out." We just kept gripping hands. I could not see a damn thing in front of me, let alone my friends' faces.
I thought it was just us that were buried. I tried, as my adrenaline started to flow, to be rational about this. "Okay, we're stuck back here and nobody's coming," I told myself. I thought about the other service representatives and why they and Carol Bowers weren't coming to find us. I tried so hard to keep everything in perspective and not to panic. But when about ten minutes or so passed with no response I started getting really worried. Tillie was sandwiched in between two metal file cabinets and said she was getting sore. Gina didn't say much, she just gripped my hand. I could tell she was very scared by the way she was shaking. At this point I was not even thinking about my own injuries or myself. I was worried about Gina and Tillie. I was crunched in a strange position also, but I could feel no pain.
I heard the voice of a man above us yelling something to somebody about the electrical wires and not to touch any. Then I heard something about the second floor caving in, then something about it being a gas explosion. Tillie whispered in a halfway joking tone, "No it's probably those bathrooms they installed. They probably didn't put them in right." We had a little laugh. I remember squeezing Gina's hand again in humor. She was not talking much.
Then we started to yell for help. We couldn't just sit there and breathe in this insulation and be crunched in these uncomfortable positions any longer. We had work to do. There were claimants waiting to be serviced.
We were about to find out that this was not the case.
We saw a flashlight in the dark. We yelled to whoever it was. Then we heard familiar voices. It was Dennis Purifoy and Dan Demoss, a Title XVI claims representative. They said all the power was out and that the office was destroyed. They and Richard Dean, a Title II claims representative, were digging through the rubble looking for everybody. Dan helped us crawl up and out of the hole we were buried in. We ended up sitting on top of a pile about 15 feet or so high of debris, right where the skylight had been. I just stared in shock and tried to get a perspective on my surroundings and stay calm. There was no office, just rubble. Why were there no more than just the few of us sitting here? I wondered.
Dan was bleeding. He said he had glass in his ear. His glasses were gone. Dennis left us with Dan and went to look for more employees. We could see up through the skylight but it was so high we knew we couldn't climb out on our own. I don't remember all that was said, but when I tried to stand up Dan moved me back real quick. A computer monitor landed right in front of me. It had fallen from an upper floor. Had it hit me it probably would have killed me. I looked up. I could see through all the floors. We were at the back of the building right by the plaza. I saw a woman lying nearby. I couldn't recognize her. I asked Dan who it was. He told me it was Carol Bowers. My heart sank. It didn't register how serious her injuries were. She was covered in blood and looked as if something had hit her in the head. She was trying to breathe and reach to Dan. Tillie had lost her glasses and couldn't see. She was feeling around for anything to hold on to. Finally somebody tried to lower a ladder from the children's playground down to us. It wasn't long enough. I immediately thought, "There is no way in hell we are getting out of here."
After about 15-20 minutes or so a fireman lowered another ladder down. This one was long enough. Dan helped the three of us onto the ladder to climb out. He said he'd be along as soon as they got somebody for Carol. When we reached the top the fireman carried us out one at a time. When we were out of the building we were very emotional, because at this time we could see helicopters flying around and yellow police tape going up around all the perimeters of the plaza. An Asian woman came up to us and asked us if we had seen her baby. We hadn't. I will never forget the look of horror on her face.
I knew I would need to contact my family. I looked around to see where we might go to use a phone. There was a bank on the east side of the building so we headed there. I was shivering.
The bank's plate glass window was gone, and I yelled through the opening and asked if there was a phone we could use. The lady said yes but she didn't know how long it would work. The lines were jamming up. We walked through the bank's empty window and I picked up the phone. It was busy. I waited and tried again. First I called my brother. I knew he would be close to downtown and could somehow get to me even if it wouldn't be until the afternoon. There was no answer. I left a message. Then I called my dad. I knew he would be home and would have the TV on. I didn't want him to worry. When he picked up the phone and knew it was my voice I thought he was going to collapse. I told him the lines were jamming up and to keep trying to get in touch with my brother so he could come to get me. My fiancé was in Norman and I knew there was no way he would get to me since I figured the highways and streets would be blocked off soon, so I called him last. He worked nights and was not up yet so I left him a message. Somehow I just knew that by the time he got up he would know I was ok and would not panic. Little did I know that his sister had been to the house and told him what happened and he didn't check my message until noon that day. So he went two hours or so when he didn't know if I was alive or dead.
When I let my dad go Tillie and Gina made phone calls. Then we went to sit on the curb by the building where other survivors were gathering and I was shocked by what I saw. So many of them were bleeding, disoriented and in shock. One of the supervisors in my office, Laquita Cowan, took our names down so they could alert our Regional Office.
We were cold. Some people from the Red Cross gave us blankets and water and asked us if we were okay. They checked all of our vital signs and then moved on to the next group. We sat there drinking our water and waited. And waited...
I remember walking back towards the building where they were putting another SSA employee in a stretcher. I saw Janet Beck, Title II claims representative standing there. She had this white look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong she told me Carol Bowers had just died. That hit me really hard. Just a little while ago I was at her desk. How could she be dead? I couldn't absorb this just yet. I wandered around in a daze for a little while longer then went back to Tillie and Gina and I told them.
We sat huddled together and cried until a police officer came to us and said they were clearing the area. We started to walk north on Harvey when Gina disappeared. She went to look for her husband. She was worried about Julie Welch. We hadn't seen her since 9:00. Tillie and I continued moving north until we got clear of the building. Then we turned around. Our mouths dropped to the ground and the blood ran out of our bodies. There was the skeleton of the Murrah building, surrounded by smoke, fire trucks, and debris floating in the air. We couldn't move.
Tillie said, "Oh my God those poor children."
I couldn't speak.
Crowds were forming in large numbers and we kept moving north. We stopped to use a man's cell phone to call my dad again. I gave him my new position. He said my brother and sister were on their way. I tried to stay there but we got moved again. I thought there would be no way they would ever find me. This was like a needle in a damn haystack. Great...
Then a wave of panic swept over the crowds. Supposedly another bomb had been found. People started running east of the building. Tillie and I began to run too. It was all so surreal?and it was then that I saw the back of my brother's head. He and my sister were frantically scanning the crowd for me. I yelled out to them and they turned around. I will never forget the relief I saw on their faces when they finally realized I was safe. It was a very emotional moment.
We headed toward a bridge and I remember my brother saying we should be careful should another explosion occur. We were talking about how this looked like Beirut in Oklahoma City. Tillie was still with us. When we reached the area near where my brother's van was parked, he left us to go get it so we wouldn't have to walk so far. I was shivering and it was then that I told my sister that my supervisor was dead. We prayed together that more people would be okay and then my brother drove up. We went to get something to eat but I couldn't eat anything. I would talk a little while, then stare into space. I don't think I took two bites out of my sandwich. I had no purse, no keys and no car to drive home. Even though I was thankful I had walked away from it, I was still irritated by this.
My brother said that new keys could be made, I could get new ID's and hopefully my car would be okay. We weren't sure though. We went to a medical clinic to get checked for any injuries. I was given a tetanus shot and was advised to go get an X-ray of my lungs to see if I had breathed in much insulation. On the drive back to Norman I asked to stop to see my dad. He lives in Moore and I wanted to see him so he could be really sure I was okay. Then we went to Norman.
My fiancé was very happy to see me, to say the least.
Then I went to take a shower.
A storm had brewed up and a loud clap of thunder came unexpectedly. It triggered a response in me I wasn't prepared for. To this day, if I am not prepared for it, thunder will trigger the same response. And it's worse if the lights happen to go out at the same time.
In the days that followed, we learned of who had survived and who had not. Julie was killed, and that was devastating to me. The man she was to interview, Emilio Tapia, was the Spanish disability interview I had scheduled for her on that date. As soon as I saw his picture in the paper I knew it was the same man I had helped just weeks before. I remembered that he had come in again just that Monday, April 17th wanting to see her early. I had told him she was unavailable and he needed to keep his appointment for the nineteenth. I remember standing in my kitchen crying with the newspaper in my hand. As it fell from my hands to the floor, I apologized and prayed that Julie and this man's family would forgive me for what I had done to them. Raymond Johnson, our volunteer, had also died.
It took four months for me to sleep in a regular bedroom instead of the couch with all the lights on. It was almost that long before I was comfortable being left alone at home at night. I had a dream a few days after the explosion. Carol Bowers came to use my phone to call her husband to tell him she was okay. She had a big smile on her face and told me my mother had been asking about me, and did I have a picture I could give her to take to my mother. I remember in my dream rummaging around in my drawers for one, and I gave it to her. She patted me on the shoulder and said that my mother was really good and missed me. She also told me to continue working hard, that I would be an excellent bilingual employee for Social Security. Then she said she had to go. When she left, she opened the door to my house, went outside and a huge bright light filled my living room. Then she was gone. I felt very comforted by that even though it still gives me chills when I think about it...
Being close to other survivors was very important to me at that time. We bonded very closely when we had to say goodbye to the ones we lost, while at the same time try to deal with the fears, survivors' guilt, and trauma we each had experienced. Sharon Littlejohn was the most severely injured employee from our office. When the blast occurred, she was blown back several feet from where she was standing and was found buried in the aisle by Richard Dean. She nearly lost an eye, had to undergo extensive hand surgeries to regain limited use of her fingers, many bits of glass had to be removed from her arms, legs, etc. She is lucky to be alive. Former President Clinton recognized Richard Dean at the State of the Union address for his bravery and heroism during this tragedy.
Many of us have found ourselves in the reluctant limelight so to speak since this...our lives completely changed overnight.
With time, it has gotten easier. After almost five years now I still have to deal with some fears that I didn't have before April 19, 1995. But I thank God every day for my life and that I walked away from this horrible event. I thank Him for my loving family, friends, and the opportunity He gave me to tell my story and to make every day a special one, and to always embrace new experiences in my life. Every once in a while I sit and I look at the Bachelor of Arts degree I earned in Spanish from the University of Oklahoma. Being bilingual saved my life. That piece of paper is what separated me from death...
This story is dedicated to those Social Security friends and co-workers I lost, that will forever be remembered:
Carol L. Bowers, Operations Supervisor
Sandra Avery, Development Clerk
Raymond Johnson, Indian Services Volunteer
Julie Welch, Title II Claims Representative
Steve Williams, Operations Supervisor
Derwin Miller, Title II Claims Representative
Sharon Wood-Chesnut, Title II Claims Representative
Margaret Goodson, Title XVI Claims Representative
Mike Thompson, Title XVI Claims Representative
Kathy Cregan, Service Representative
Ethel Griffin, Service Representative
Oleta Biddy, Service Representative
Ron Harding, Service Representative
Charlotte Thomas, appointment clerk
Bob Walker, Title II Claims Representative
Richard Allen, Title II Claims Representative

And Lorri McNiven, a survivor and a Title II Claims Representative, who passed away in September 2000 from unrelated circumstances.

"I am the resurrection and the life."

May they all rest in peace.




Go here to read the SSA archives on Richard Dean, the CR that was commended at Clinton's State of the Union Address.
http://www.ssaonline.us/history/okc5.html