Latest news with #OklahomaCityBombing:OneDayinAmerica
Yahoo
19-04-2025
- Yahoo
Oklahoma City bombing survivor was ‘getting ready to die' after being trapped in 10 feet of rubble
April 19, 1995, started off as a beautiful spring day for Amy Downs, a teller at a credit union inside the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. "I remember the red buds were blooming," Downs recalled to Fox News Digital. "I was so excited. I was getting ready to close my very first house. I don't think I did any work in that first hour of the day. I was running around talking to all my friends about the house. "And then I was looking at my watch, thinking, 'Oh gosh, it's almost nine o'clock. I'm going to get in trouble. I had better get back to my desk.'" Downs flew past her boss. A co-worker who was six months pregnant sat beside her. Downs asked if she needed anything. Oklahoma City Bombing: Fbi Agent Reflects On Response To Attack 29 Years Later "I don't know if the words even came out of my mouth or not, because that's when the bomb went off and everything went black," Downs said. Read On The Fox News App It was 30 years ago when a truck bomb detonated outside a federal building in America's heartland, killing 168 people in the deadliest homegrown attack on U.S. soil. Downs and other survivors and witnesses are speaking out in a new National Geographic docuseries, "Oklahoma City Bombing: One Day in America." "I think it's so important to remember what happened and the lessons that were learned," Downs said of why she chose to come forward. Downs was 28 years old when she found herself trapped upside down in her office chair. She had fallen three floors down and was buried under 10 feet of rubble. Whenever she gasped for air, it burned down to her chest. Her body was pierced with glass. "I remember hearing roaring and screaming, and this powerful rushing sensation, like I was falling," said Downs. "I found out I had fallen. … I couldn't move. I couldn't see. It was very hard to breathe. I had no idea what had happened. I just knew it was bad." Downs screamed for help, but no one replied. In the darkness, she heard silence. Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity, there was a sudden commotion of firefighters. One said, "Let's split up. Let's look for the daycare babies." SIGN UP TO GET True Crime Newsletter They were referring to the children at the America's Kids Daycare inside the building. "I was confused," said Downs. "I thought, 'Why are they looking for the daycare babies here? The daycare is on the second floor, and we're on the third floor.' I had no idea that we were at the bottom of what was once this nine-story building." Fire Chief Mike Shannon heard Down's cries for help. Just as he was about to go get her, his crew learned there was a possibility of another bomb that was about to go off. It forced them to immediately evacuate, leaving Downs behind. Shannon was determined to stay with Downs, but fellow firefighters refused to leave him behind. In the documentary, Shannon described how he heard the echoes of Downs sobbing, begging him to save her, as he was being rushed out. At that moment, Downs believed her life was coming to an end. "I now knew it had been a bomb, and it looked like there was another one," she said. "I was getting ready to die. I prayed, or maybe you could call it bargained with God. I kept promising God anything, just to be able to live. I prayed for a second chance. My reality was that I was 28 years old and getting ready to die, and I've never really lived. I had a lot of regrets about how I had not been living." SIGN UP TO GET True Crime Newsletter In between tears, she began to recite portions of Psalm 23 to comfort herself. "The only thing I could remember was, 'I walked through the valley of the shadow of death,'" said Downs. "I couldn't remember what came next. I thought that was awful. And then, of all the weird things to do, a song popped into my head that we used to sing growing up in church. I started singing this song, and I felt peace. This was the first time that I thought I was at peace with what was getting ready to happen." There was no second bomb. Once the firefighters realized this, they rushed back in. Shannon remembered to look for Downs. When Downs heard the sounds of men again, she promised in the darkness to bake them, anyone, chocolate chip cookies if they could save her. Six and a half hours later, she was free. "I was in the hospital for about eight days," she said. "The biggest injury was my leg, which had been split open. My bone was intact, but the leg was open. But the hardest part was finding out that 18 of my 33 co-workers were killed. … Grief is something that I couldn't comprehend. Dealing with the grief and trauma was the hard part. The injuries were nothing." Downs was one of the last survivors to be pulled from the rubble after the bombing, which killed 168 people, including 19 children. Nearly 700 others were injured. GET REAL-TIME UPDATES DIRECTLY ON THE True Crime Hub Downs struggled with survivor's guilt. "I remember on the eighth day in the hospital, they found my best friend's body," she tearfully said. "She had baby girls at home." As Downs grieved, the community banded together. In just 72 hours after the bombing, 7,000 people waited in line to donate blood, Fox25 reported. "We have our differences, and differences are not a bad thing," she said. "But I think it's cool when we know when to put aside those differences and come together for good." Downs was still in the ICU when she saw a group of nurses glued to a television screen. It was revealed that the bombing was orchestrated by two former U.S. Army buddies, Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols. They shared a deep-seated hatred of the federal government fueled by the bloody raid on the Branch Davidian religious sect near Waco, Texas, and a standoff in the mountains of Ruby Ridge, Idaho, that killed a 14-year-old boy, his mother and a federal agent. "When I found out that it was an American, not only that, but somebody who also served in our military … I struggled with that," she said. "I could not wrap my brain around that. My father is from the Greatest Generation. He lied about his age when he was 17 years old to fight World War II. It just didn't add up. How could you be an American? How could you serve our country? How could you do this?" According to the documentary, Downs later faced McVeigh in court. "It was very disturbing," she said, shuddering. "He almost seemed proud of it." McVeigh was executed by lethal injection in 2001. He was 33. Nichols, now 70, is serving life in prison without the possibility of parole. Downs was ready to embrace her second chance at life. She went from a 355-pound "couch potato" to losing 200 pounds and completing a full ironman triathlon. She went on to work for the same credit union, now called Allegiance Credit Union, where she served as president and CEO. "I'd flunked out of college because I couldn't pass a math class," she said. "But I was very fortunate to have bosses who mentored me and believed in me. … I had promised God that I would never live my life the same if I survived, and I meant that. … I went back to college, got my degree, did all the things. … And just this week, I retired. So, I decided to launch a new chapter." Waco Doc: Cult Leader David Koresh 'Needed To Fulfill His Destiny,' Resulting In Horrific Tragedy Today, Downs is a full-time speaker. She also created a new bucket list. She and her sister are planning to walk about 160 miles of Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage known as "The Way of St. James." She's also eager to ride her bicycle across the United States. "I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up," the 58-year-old chuckled. Downs hopes viewers watching the documentary will learn how a community became united during tragedy. "It showcases the strength of the human spirit and the courage of these men who rushed in to help," she said. "And the way we came together. The thing is, we are all going to face times in our lives when we're buried under the rubble, where devastation comes to us. … We will face difficult times. "I think the lesson from this is that, as people, we can come together. And when you come together during times of difficulty, you are stronger than you realize. And together, you will get through it."Original article source: Oklahoma City bombing survivor was 'getting ready to die' after being trapped in 10 feet of rubble
Fox News
19-04-2025
- Fox News
Oklahoma City bombing survivor was ‘getting ready to die' after being trapped in 10 feet of rubble
April 19, 1995, started off as a beautiful spring day for Amy Downs, a teller at a credit union inside the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. "I remember the red buds were blooming," Downs recalled to Fox News Digital. "I was so excited. I was getting ready to close my very first house. I don't think I did any work in that first hour of the day. I was running around talking to all my friends about the house. "And then I was looking at my watch, thinking, 'Oh gosh, it's almost nine o'clock. I'm going to get in trouble. I had better get back to my desk.'" Downs flew past her boss. A co-worker who was six months pregnant sat beside her. Downs asked if she needed anything. "I don't know if the words even came out of my mouth or not, because that's when the bomb went off and everything went black," Downs said. It was 30 years ago when a truck bomb detonated outside a federal building in America's heartland, killing 168 people in the deadliest homegrown attack on U.S. soil. Downs and other survivors and witnesses are speaking out in a new National Geographic docuseries, "Oklahoma City Bombing: One Day in America." "I think it's so important to remember what happened and the lessons that were learned," Downs said of why she chose to come forward. Downs was 28 years old when she found herself trapped upside down in her office chair. She had fallen three floors down and was buried under 10 feet of rubble. Whenever she gasped for air, it burned down to her chest. Her body was pierced with glass. "I remember hearing roaring and screaming, and this powerful rushing sensation, like I was falling," said Downs. "I found out I had fallen. … I couldn't move. I couldn't see. It was very hard to breathe. I had no idea what had happened. I just knew it was bad." Downs screamed for help, but no one replied. In the darkness, she heard silence. Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity, there was a sudden commotion of firefighters. One said, "Let's split up. Let's look for the daycare babies." SIGN UP TO GET TRUE CRIME NEWSLETTER They were referring to the children at the America's Kids Daycare inside the building. "I was confused," said Downs. "I thought, 'Why are they looking for the daycare babies here? The daycare is on the second floor, and we're on the third floor.' I had no idea that we were at the bottom of what was once this nine-story building." Fire Chief Mike Shannon heard Down's cries for help. Just as he was about to go get her, his crew learned there was a possibility of another bomb that was about to go off. It forced them to immediately evacuate, leaving Downs behind. Shannon was determined to stay with Downs, but fellow firefighters refused to leave him behind. In the documentary, Shannon described how he heard the echoes of Downs sobbing, begging him to save her, as he was being rushed out. At that moment, Downs believed her life was coming to an end. "I now knew it had been a bomb, and it looked like there was another one," she said. "I was getting ready to die. I prayed, or maybe you could call it bargained with God. I kept promising God anything, just to be able to live. I prayed for a second chance. My reality was that I was 28 years old and getting ready to die, and I've never really lived. I had a lot of regrets about how I had not been living." SIGN UP TO GET TRUE CRIME NEWSLETTER In between tears, she began to recite portions of Psalm 23 to comfort herself. "The only thing I could remember was, 'I walked through the valley of the shadow of death,'" said Downs. "I couldn't remember what came next. I thought that was awful. And then, of all the weird things to do, a song popped into my head that we used to sing growing up in church. I started singing this song, and I felt peace. This was the first time that I thought I was at peace with what was getting ready to happen." There was no second bomb. Once the firefighters realized this, they rushed back in. Shannon remembered to look for Downs. When Downs heard the sounds of men again, she promised in the darkness to bake them, anyone, chocolate chip cookies if they could save her. Six and a half hours later, she was free. "I was in the hospital for about eight days," she said. "The biggest injury was my leg, which had been split open. My bone was intact, but the leg was open. But the hardest part was finding out that 18 of my 33 co-workers were killed. … Grief is something that I couldn't comprehend. Dealing with the grief and trauma was the hard part. The injuries were nothing." Downs was one of the last survivors to be pulled from the rubble after the bombing, which killed 168 people, including 19 children. Nearly 700 others were injured. GET REAL-TIME UPDATES DIRECTLY ON THE TRUE CRIME HUB Downs struggled with survivor's guilt. "I remember on the eighth day in the hospital, they found my best friend's body," she tearfully said. "She had baby girls at home." As Downs grieved, the community banded together. In just 72 hours after the bombing, 7,000 people waited in line to donate blood, FOX25 reported. "We have our differences, and differences are not a bad thing," she said. "But I think it's cool when we know when to put aside those differences and come together for good." Downs was still in the ICU when she saw a group of nurses glued to a television screen. It was revealed that the bombing was orchestrated by two former U.S. Army buddies, Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols. They shared a deep-seated hatred of the federal government fueled by the bloody raid on the Branch Davidian religious sect near Waco, Texas, and a standoff in the mountains of Ruby Ridge, Idaho, that killed a 14-year-old boy, his mother and a federal agent. "When I found out that it was an American, not only that, but somebody who also served in our military … I struggled with that," she said. "I could not wrap my brain around that. My father is from the Greatest Generation. He lied about his age when he was 17 years old to fight World War II. It just didn't add up. How could you be an American? How could you serve our country? How could you do this?" According to the documentary, Downs later faced McVeigh in court. "It was very disturbing," she said, shuddering. "He almost seemed proud of it." McVeigh was executed by lethal injection in 2001. He was 33. Nichols, now 70, is serving life in prison without the possibility of parole. Downs was ready to embrace her second chance at life. She went from a 355-pound "couch potato" to losing 200 pounds and completing a full ironman triathlon. She went on to work for the same credit union, now called Allegiance Credit Union, where she served as president and CEO. "I'd flunked out of college because I couldn't pass a math class," she said. "But I was very fortunate to have bosses who mentored me and believed in me. … I had promised God that I would never live my life the same if I survived, and I meant that. … I went back to college, got my degree, did all the things. … And just this week, I retired. So, I decided to launch a new chapter." Today, Downs is a full-time speaker. She also created a new bucket list. She and her sister are planning to walk about 160 miles of Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage known as "The Way of St. James." She's also eager to ride her bicycle across the United States. "I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up," the 58-year-old chuckled. Downs hopes viewers watching the documentary will learn how a community became united during tragedy. "It showcases the strength of the human spirit and the courage of these men who rushed in to help," she said. "And the way we came together. The thing is, we are all going to face times in our lives when we're buried under the rubble, where devastation comes to us. … We will face difficult times. "I think the lesson from this is that, as people, we can come together. And when you come together during times of difficulty, you are stronger than you realize. And together, you will get through it."
USA Today
19-04-2025
- Entertainment
- USA Today
How Netflix's Oklahoma City bombing documentary spotlights resiliency amid tragedy
How Netflix's Oklahoma City bombing documentary spotlights resiliency amid tragedy Show Caption Hide Caption Watch trailer for Netflix's 'Oklahoma City Bombing: American Terror' Netflix's documentary 'Oklahoma City Bombing: American Terror' arrives on the 30th anniversary of the tragedy. See the exclusive trailer. On the morning of April 19, 1995, an Army veteran once described as 'probably the best soldier' in his company parked a commercial truck carrying a 4,800-pound bomb in downtown Oklahoma City. Timothy McVeigh targeted the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building because of the numerous federal agencies scattered among the structure's nine stories, where hundreds worked. The date marked two years since the fatal end of a 51-day standoff between law enforcement and cult leader David Koresh in Waco, Texas. In retaliation, McVeigh rented a truck using a fake I.D. made with a clothing iron to transport the fertilizer bomb that he and his friend Terry Nichols assembled. The two first met in the Army, and later bonded over their anti-government views. At 9:02 a.m., the explosive detonated, obliterating one-third of the building, which also housed a daycare center. Thirty years after the shocking act of domestic terror that claimed 168 lives, the tragedy is the focus of new projects: NatGeo's three-part docuseries 'Oklahoma City Bombing: One Day in America' is streaming on Disney+ and Hulu. And Netflix's 'Oklahoma City Bombing: American Terror' 1 hour, 24-minute documentary chronicles the day of the bombing, featuring interviews with people on site and law enforcement officers desperate to solve the case. The documentary also spotlights local residents' resiliency and ability to step up for their grief-stricken community. The Oklahoma City bombing: A timeline of events, the aftermath The inspiring Oklahomans who 'found a heroic piece of themselves' Director Greg Tillman tells USA TODAY that while making his film, he found a consistent theme: 'In spite of the horror that they're all experiencing,' he says, 'so many people in that moment found a heroic piece of themselves that they may never have known about until something like this happened in their life.' The filmmaker applauds the 'hundreds' who 'ran right to the site to see if they could help people.' Those attempting to save survivors in the building did so with the understanding that they were risking their own lives. Dr. Carl Spengler, who performed onsite triage, remembers in the documentary a surgeon who, when he 'crawled into the hole to do (an) amputation he handed his wallet back and said, 'If this collapses, give that to my wife.'' Tillman says FBI officials told him as he made the documentary they were mindful about requests for donations, 'because anything they asked for from the public, they got 20 times more than needed.' 'Faith endured:' Downtown OKC congregations' stories of resilience and hope in bombing aftermath Timothy McVeigh in custody for another crime during hunt for bomber Charlie Hanger, then an Oklahoma Highway Patrol trooper, pulled over McVeigh shortly after the bombing. McVeigh's getaway car, a 1977 Mercury Marquis, didn't have a license plate. McVeigh threatened Hanger with the loaded gun bulging from his jacket, so Hanger arrested McVeigh and brought him to Noble County Jail in Perry, about an hour north of Oklahoma City. There, McVeigh was booked and saw on TV the extent of the devastation. Because of a court backlog, McVeigh remained jailed, though authorities had not yet connected him to the bombing. Meanwhile, a blown-off piece of McVeigh's truck led authorities to a rental reservation, which resulted in a sketch that ultimately connected him to the crime. The FBI searched a database to see if anyone named Timothy McVeigh had been arrested and discovered he'd been apprehended in Perry. On April 21, the FBI phoned Hanger, who informed them that McVeigh was currently in court '35, 45 minutes away from walking out the door.' When asked about the coincidence Mark Gibson, then assistant district attorney for Noble County, reasoned with a Southern drawl, 'God was watching us.' McVeigh was executed in 2001. His co-conspirator Nichols is serving a life sentence in Florence, Colorado. Here's what happened to the OKC bomber, his accomplice and others in the 30 years since the attack A dedicated doctor, grieving mother and transformed survivor The documentary depicts the experiences of three people irrevocably touched by the tragedy that will stay with viewers long after the documentary ends. Spengler, a third-year medical resident, accepted a friend's invitation for breakfast near the Federal Building after his shift ended at 7 a.m. Spengler says after the bombing he 'took off running' to the scene and provided triage care. He determined which victims needed the most urgent attention and which could not be saved. 'And to compound all of that, you had children,' Spengler emphasizes. Renee Moore worked near the building and relied on its daycare for her 6-month-old son Antonio Cooper Jr., who was among those killed. She recalls nights where she would drive to McVeigh's prison and 'just sit out there in the dark, wondering how I could get in so I could hurt him.' In an interesting twist of fate she welcomed another son, Carlos Moore, on Antonio's birthday. Amy Downs, an employee of the building's Federal Employees Credit Union, regained consciousness beneath a mountain of debris. Rescuers located Downs but had to flee before they could free her from the rubble after authorities thought they had found a second bomb. 'They were leaving me buried alive,' Downs remembers. 'And I'd start thinking about my life and relationships and doing something with your life to help others, and I'd never been a mom. And all of a sudden, it was just so clear. I didn't live a life true to myself. Once free, Downs vowed to God, 'I would never live my life the same.' She became a triathlete, earned her MBA, became CEO of the credit union, an author and a motivational speaker. The children of the Oklahoma City bombing remain symbols of the city's growth
New York Times
15-04-2025
- Politics
- New York Times
30 Years Later, a New Look at the Oklahoma City Bombing
David Glover holds up what looks like a pair of gray bricks. They were once part of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, which was bombed by Timothy McVeigh on April 19, 1995, killing 168 people. It remains the deadliest domestic terror attack in U.S. history. Glover, an executive producer of the new three-part docuseries 'Oklahoma City Bombing: One Day in America,' explained in a video interview that he had received the rubble from Mike Shannon, a firefighter featured in the film. Shannon wanted the filmmaker to feel the weight of the project in his hands. 'It was almost like he was saying, 'Don't forget this is real,'' Glover said. ''Don't forget you've got a responsibility here.' It is a physical artifact that has a lot of heft to it.' Shannon needn't have worried. The series, now streaming on Hulu and Disney+, follows a pattern set by the first two 'One Day in America' installments, which covered the Sept. 11 attacks and the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. The stories are less interested in granules of policy and the sweep of history than in the experiences of individuals who were present for events that shook the country. (Glover is an executive producer on all of the 'One Day in America' series, which were produced by 72 Films, the company he founded with Mark Raphael.) This approach means that McVeigh, the violent anti-government extremist who bombed the Murrah building (and was executed in 2001), takes a back seat to the Oklahomans whose lives were shattered that day, many of whom appear here to give their accounts of the shock and its aftermath. This includes emergency medical workers, victims, family members, law enforcement officers and even McVeigh's court-appointed attorney, who admits to fearing for his life when he learned the identity of his new client. Even the more famous and consequential interview subjects approach the day's events from a personal perspective. Bill Clinton, who was in the first term of his presidency when the attack occurred (and was in the middle of a White House news conference on terrorism when he was notified about it), lost one of his favorite Secret Service agents in the bombing. 'I wanted to scream,' Clinton says in the series. 'Then I said, 'No, you can't do that. You don't get to scream.'' Ceri Isfryn, who directed the docuseries, was also struck by what happened after their interview. 'He said at the end of it that we'd asked him questions he'd never been asked before, which was surprising to me,' she said, sitting beside Glover in a video interview. 'There's something about asking people to almost freeze time in really specific moments that gives for a different and more vulnerable interview.' Clinton wasn't the only person who gained new insight through interviews with the filmmaking team. At the time of the bombing, Amy Downs was a 28-year-old staff member at Federal Employees Credit Union, which lost 18 of its 33 employees in the attack. As she recalls in the series, she was trapped upside down in her office chair as firefighters dug through the rubble for survivors. Shannon, the same fireman who gave the filmmakers chunks of the building, heard her crying for help. In the series, Shannon recalls how bad he felt after another bomb scare forced an evacuation of the building and he had to leave Downs pleading for assistance (she was rescued when firefighters were allowed back in). In an interview, Downs, who eventually became chief executive of the resurrected credit union (renamed Allegiance Credit Union), said she was never aware of Shannon's internal conflict until she saw the documentary footage and Shannon's interview. 'I had forgotten about begging Mike Shannon to stay, and I didn't know about the battle that he had not wanting to leave,' Downs said. 'I didn't put myself in his shoes. I hate that I made him feel the way I did.' She said she had weighed more at the time of the explosion and that fact, surprisingly, was probably what allowed her to stay in her chair as it hung upside down. The experience of surviving the trauma of the bombing inspired her to go back to school, first for a bachelor's degree in organizational leadership, and then for an MBA. Much of the footage in the series came from a single source: Oklahoma City-based KWTV News 9, which opened up its rushes to the 'One Day in America' team. The startlingly immediate images are accompanied by newly recorded witness narration that describes what is onscreen. The station also provided the series one of its most compelling interview subjects. Robin Marsh had started working at KWTV just nine days before the bombing. At 9:01 a.m. that day she was in a meeting to prepare for her afternoon news anchor job when a colleague entered the news director's office. The assistant fire chief had called to say there had been an explosion downtown. 'And then our building shook like there had been an earthquake,' Marsh said in an interview. 'We were about 10 miles away. We knew immediately that something catastrophic had happened.' The footage from that day provides an extraordinary look at a newsroom jolted into action. We see the moment when the station staff members realize the importance of the date: April 19, 1995, two years from the day when the siege on the Branch Davidian compound outside Waco, Texas, ended in a deadly inferno (which McVeigh identified as a primary source of his anti-government rage). Viewers see Marsh walk onto the set of the live newscast with handwritten updates. And we see her running for cover, again live on the air, when that second bomb scare is announced. Marsh, who is still an anchor at the station — she also leads tours of the bombing memorial site — pointed out how differently big news was gathered and disseminated 30 years ago. The 24-hour news cycle was a fairly recent innovation. News 9 stayed on the air for 90 consecutive hours, from Wednesday to Sunday. 'Did I go home?' Marsh said. 'Yes. Did I rest? I'm not sure.' To Marsh, the 'One Day in America' series was made in the same spirit as the effort her station made to tell the story as intimately as possible. 'It gives you a glimpse of heroism on a level that in some ways your mind can't comprehend,' she said. 'They let you hear from the people who were there. The spirit of the story is told so well.'
Yahoo
02-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
OKC bombing survivors share stories in 3-part documentary
DAYTON, Ohio (WDTN) — A three-part documentary series will share stories from the survivors of one the deadliest acts of domestic terrorism in the United States. The Oklahoma City bombing claimed over 150 lives and injuring many more. Amy Downs survived the attack. With the help of documentary filmmaker Ceri Isfryn, she's taking her story, and others like it, to the big screen. 'I hope that this younger generation who doesn't remember it or maybe wasn't even alive, they'll be able to learn from this and they'll be able to walk away maybe having a little bit more hope,' Downs said. 'Oklahoma City Bombing: One Day in America' will air in three parts, premiering part 1 tonight on National Geographic beginning at 8 p.m. EST. As the docuseries airs, it will be available to stream on Hulu and Disney+ the next day. April 19 will mark the 30-year anniversary of the bombing. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
