On the morning of September 11, 2001, the sky over Nashville was robin egg blue, the sun shown brightly, and all the world seemed to be at peace. Only a few minutes later our world changed forever.

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30 Days Later

I nervously snapped the seatbelt around my waist. Why were my hands shaking? Might it be because one of the first flights just took off from Nashville to New York City? The first since America closed all airports for the first time in our countries history.

Gazing out the window, my eyes blurred further as raindrops bounced off the airplane's window like bubbles in a bathtub. Thoughts drifted aimlessly through my head. What would it be like? How will I react? The hesitation and anxiety was overwhelming.

Decades of experience in the field of forensic science and identification in Nashville had prepared me well, or so I thought, for the formidable duty that lay ahead. But this time, it all felt different. Soon I would realize it far exceeded anything I could have ever imagined.

The officers updated us on the status of the catastrophe. It changed by the minute. The rubble pile at the 'pit' (the words Ground Zero had then not yet been coined) was still burning, weeks after the attack. Ruptured gas lines belched flames and greasy soot from the jet fuel each plane had been carrying.

We were told that there were about 100-200 'jumpers' to be identified. Those remains were recovered on the perimeter of each building site before either tower had collapsed.

On the morning of September 12, 2001, it had been reported that between 300-500 NYC police officers and firefighters never came home from work the night before. Sadly, they never would.

There were estimations of between 50,000-100,000 people, employees and visitors were around this 14 acre 'killing field'. Who knew the exact number? Would we ever know the exact number? Later, we would learn that people from over 80 countries died that morning. It would take years to confirm it all. Our hearts would never recover.

That first morning in New York was blessed with mild temperatures, a gorgeous sunny day with robin egg blue sky. It was a short walk from our hotel to the Medical Examiner's Office, located at 30th/3rd. As we approached, our surgical scrub attire with accompanying NYPD/MEO credentials, gave our identity away instantly.

I remember vividly noticing hundreds of citizens, of varying age and nationality milling around nervously. Many held up signs with photos of missing loved ones. It reminded me of people scurrying around nervously, as if trying to score some last minute tickets to the Super Bowl. We had been advised to proceed through security into the building while trying to avoid eye contact with the public. That was not possible.

I was approached by a middle aged woman who gently tapped me on the shoulder. "Sir, please look at this picture. They don't understand. This my only son. He works for FDNY and he hasn't come home yet. Please, can you help me find him? Here is a smaller picture of my poster. I will wait right here til you come to give me information about my son!"

My eyes pooled with tears instantly. "I must keep moving but I will come and find you here if I find your son."

This was going to be a long day, a very long day. And I haven't even gotten in the front door yet.