He was 42 years old, a weightlifter with a Superman tattoo on his arm. Vivid details played out in his subconsciousness - the narrowness of the aisle, the claustrophobic feeling - of the passengers and crews charging toward the cockpit.īut it was in this field where Kenny felt he really turned a corner in his grief.Īs we stood near a 17-ton sandstone boulder placed at the point of impact, Ken told me about his brother. He remembered a dream where he was on that plane, seeing what unfolded through someone else's eyes. Like other family members, Ken struggled to cope with the loss of Joey. Louis "Joey" Nacke was a passenger on United 93. Ken Nacke, a Baltimore County police officer, was here to visit his brother, and he asked me to join him. I no longer had a right to be here, and I no longer felt like a caretaker of this place. The rest - 157 acres - went to the nonprofit group the Families of Flight 93. The 6 acres where the first-class cabin and cockpit had landed were now part of the National Park Service. In 2011, I was able to walk the site for the first time since we sold our land. Ken Nacke holds a photo of his brother, Louis "Joey" Nacke, who died on Flight 93. But it was also healing - just like some of the families. The land was still telling the story of Flight 93. I came across a large piece of insulated wiring resting at the base of a tree. The final resting place of their loved ones.īut reminders of the devastation from the September day still surfaced. She found it cathartic to bring a lawn chair to sit for hours in solitude and peace. Esther said she found it poignant that something so sad and tragic could happen in this random, peaceful landscape. Ben told me he felt like he's here with Elizabeth. The surviving hemlocks stood tall, although they still bore scars from that day, missing branches from base to canopy.Īs we stood together that morning, steps from where the plane had hurtled into the ground five years earlier, we talked about the land and the connection families now felt to it. The grass was back, tall and lush, and so were the wildflowers. The crash site, once so brown, barren and charred, was now a vibrant green. The morning air damp and hazy.ĭebby Borza stands next to a memorial for her daughter, Deora Bodley, who was the youngest passenger on Flight 93. Like Debby, they had also lost their daughter, Honor Elizabeth Wainio, on Flight 93. Ben Wainio and his wife, Esther Heymann, were with her. I walked through the security gate set up to keep trespassers out and was greeted by Debby. This time when I stepped out of the car at the crash site, the air smelled like sugar maples and wildflowers. I grew close to some families, close enough that during one visit, Debby threw me a birthday party at a restaurant a few miles from Shanksville. So I spent hours combing through the woods with Wally and others, picking up plane parts, noting which trees had been searched, indicated by big red Xs. I went as a journalist to chronicle a story to which I had a front-row seat. The first years after the crash, I'd made many trips back and forth to my land. Her 20-year-old daughter, Deora Bodley, was the youngest passenger on Flight 93. I was back in Shanksville five years later at the request of Debby Borza. Find and support your local public radio station.Ī container labeled "plane parts only" collected debris from the crash in 2001. Subscribe to the NPR Politics Newsletter. Listen to our playlist The NPR Politics Daily Workout. Email the show at Join the NPR Politics Podcast Facebook Group. Connect: Subscribe to the NPR Politics Podcast here. Warning: This episode contains explicit language and content some listeners may find disturbing. Twenty years after Flight 93's crash, Lambert and NPR's Scott Detrow tell the story of Flight 93: what happened that day and what happened over the years to come. He gained access and insight into 9/11 that no other reporter had.
The crash would end up connecting Lambert, in surprising ways, to the first responders who managed the aftermath and to the families of the people who died on board. Part of the plane crashed onto land owned by Tim Lambert, a public radio reporter at WITF in Harrisburg, Pa. The passengers and crew fought back and because of that, the plane crashed outside Shanksville, Pa., instead of its likely target: the U.S. 11, 2001, United Airlines Flight 93 was hijacked by four al-Qaida terrorists. On 9/11, Part Of Flight 93 Crashed On His Land In Shanksville, Pa.