Editor’s Note: I first wrote this in 2021 to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the September 11 attacks. For the 25th anniversary, I have revised and expanded the original piece. I share it again to remember those we lost and to preserve some small part of what that day looked and felt like as it happened. I have also included several 9/11 resources at the end for readers who want to learn more.
It’s 7:45 p.m., and roughly 150 members of Congress have convened on the steps of the U.S. Capitol. First, they observe a moment of silence in a bipartisan gesture. Then, spontaneously, they sing “God Bless America,” an act of defiance in the face of sheer terror. What would bring together a bipartisan group of Congress in this patriotic moment? It was the worst attack on U.S. soil since Pearl Harbor.
It started like any other day. Working on Capitol Hill meant long, unpredictable days. The to-do list would probably become irrelevant by 10 a.m., replaced by another. That was before social media and tireless cable news coverage brought you the latest in real time.
That morning, we held a subcommittee hearing on Internet Tax Fairness, a critical consumer issue with a looming deadline, as a congressional moratorium was set to expire in six weeks, and Congress had yet to resolve it. I worked for the Subcommittee Chairman, Representative Bob Barr, representing northwest Georgia in the then-7th Congressional District.
We were together doing last-minute preparation when the news broke just before 9 a.m. that a plane (American Flight 11) struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center. We watched, believing some terrible accident had occurred, unaware of the tragedy unfolding that day. We started the hearing about 15 minutes late after the second plane (United Flight 175) hit the South Tower, and Congressman Barr asked for a moment of silence for those affected by the tragedy.
By 9:37 a.m., a third plane (American Flight 77) crashed into the Pentagon, killing all the passengers on board and 125 military and civilian personnel, including a former Hill colleague I’d seen just the week before. At 9:45 a.m., Capitol Police ordered the evacuation of the Capitol and office complexes. We ended the hearing abruptly and helped everyone exit the hearing room. Congressman Barr insisted on returning to his office but told us to evacuate safely.
One of the passengers on Flight 77 was Barbara Olson, whom I had met years earlier when she was chief investigative counsel for the House Government Reform and Oversight Committee. I was barely out of college and still a young idealist on Capitol Hill. The first time we met, she called me a dumbass. By the end of the meeting, she had apparently decided I was a dumbass worth fixing. Barbara scared me a little, challenged me a lot, and taught me how to really dig into an investigation. The week before 9/11, I had dinner with Barbara and her husband, Ted. I remember leaving that dinner thinking things were going very well for them. A week later, she was gone.
Thousands of people poured into the streets from the House office buildings, unsure where to go or what to do. Amid the crowd, I found several staff members and directed them to meet at the corner of First and C Streets. One staffer had just relocated from Georgia and started the day before, totally lost. When I guided her to our meeting place, the South Tower had already collapsed. Flight 93 had crashed in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, 20 minutes away from its likely intended target, the U.S. Capitol. I often marvel at the bravery of the men and women on that flight who took matters into their own hands and sacrificed their lives for the safety of thousands, including me, in the U.S. Capitol complex.
When the North Tower fell at roughly 10:28 a.m. that morning, every restaurant and bar nearby was full of displaced congressional employees watching television coverage. In Washington, D.C., cell phone signals were jammed, making it impossible to make a call, so the line for the available payphones was impossibly long.
I sent our staff to the nearby apartment of our staff scheduler to set up temporary operations, which would be further away from the danger. While I watched the smoke on the horizon from the Pentagon, rumors were rampant on the streets: reports of a car bombing at the State Department, other planes still in the air, and heading for the Capitol. Word was spreading about the desperate acts of those still trapped in the towers before the collapse. In short, it was chaos.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated, and I saw 35 phone messages from my wife and other family members. I tried to call my wife, but the cell signal was still jammed. One tiny bit of fortune: Congressman Barr insisted that the senior staff members get a BlackBerry phone. I could email my family to let them know I was safe and would call when I could. Listening later, I could hear my wife’s voice get more frantic with each unanswered call.
Over the next few hours, we tried to gather news, stay connected to staff and the Congressman, and plan next steps. We were allowed back into our offices late afternoon and handled press and constituent calls. As the sun was setting in Washington, members of Congress gathered on the U.S. Capitol steps to honor those who had lost their lives and show unity. To this day, 9/11 is through the lens of the events I witnessed in Washington that day and not through the television coverage that so many people remember.
My story pales in comparison to those who died on the planes, in the towers of the World Trade Center or the Pentagon, or who bravely went toward the crisis while the rest of us were evacuating. The families of nearly 3,000 dead and 25,000 injured have spent years processing their loss, even to this very day.
For the rest of us, we were unwilling witnesses to one of the most horrific tragedies in recent U.S. history. Everyone knows their 9/11 story, often with the same sense of danger as those in New York or Washington. In short, it was a universally shared experience. Part of that experience is reliving the fear and uncertainty of that day as the facade of security fell around us.
In the meantime, take today to remember those who perished and the families they left behind. We should also remember the brave men and women who risked their lives to help others reach safety. If we want to honor them, we should reject fear and choose resolve instead.
Twenty-five years later, that may be one of the clearest lessons September 11 still offers us. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is what we choose to do despite it. Call me a foolish optimist, but I still believe we are capable of that.
9/11 Resources
For readers who want to learn more, these resources preserve the history, voices, and records of September 11.
National September 11 Memorial & Museum: Exhibits, oral histories, collections, timelines, and educational resources.
The 9/11 Commission Report: The official report examining the attacks, the events that led to them, and the government response.
September 11 Digital Archive: A large collection of firsthand accounts, emails, photographs, audio, video, and other records from 9/11 and its aftermath.
Flight 93 National Memorial: The story of the passengers and crew of United Flight 93 and the crash site near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
National 9/11 Pentagon Memorial: The story of American Airlines Flight 77, the attack on the Pentagon, and the 184 people who were killed there and aboard the aircraft.
National Archives: 9/11 FAA Records: FAA records, audio, and other material related to the four hijacked flights, including American Airlines Flight 77.