9/11 911

As I mentioned briefly in my most recent News and Record column, one of the remaining souvenirs (if you can call it that) of the day I was attacked is the 911 tape. It was given to me by the DA (as per my request) along with the crime scene photos when my ex plea bargained, thus ending the need for trial evidence.

I've thought a lot about that tape today as I've read the news that New York released 911 tapes from September 11th. Apparently the families of the victims demanded their release. I understand their need - there's this weird hoarding mentality that sometimes comes about in the face of tragedy - it's why I asked for the evidence from my attack and why people keep obituaries and funeral hand-outs. I think for me, and probably for the 9/11 families, part of the hoarding comes from needing something solid to prove what happened really happened. It's strange to think that the families, who weren't present for the tragedy itself, and I, who was hilt-deep in my personal tragedy, would have the same need of proof... but strange as it may seem, I remember very little of that morning. Thanks to the power of adrenaline, the attack barely even hurt (until afterwards, of course).

I listened to my 911 tape a half dozen times in the offices of the DA and then my therapist. I recognized our voices (I dropped the phone - most of the attack was recorded though my call was logged as a hang-up.) Little of the dialogue sounded familiar. But the fear in my voice was haunting. My greatest apprehension about the trial was that my loved ones would have to hear that fear.

I hope sincerely and truly that the 9/11 families will think long and hard before they listen to those tapes. I can't imagine anything that could pull that wound open more painfully.