Somewhere in a dark room, perhaps nursing a stiff drink, sits a man grappling with fear and flashbacks.
He is one of two or three men still living who sent people to their deaths on 911 in an unexpected fashion.
Lots of people. Maybe hundreds or even over a thousand.
You see, after the first plane hit the North Tower, folks began evacuating the South Tower sixteen and a half minutes before United Airlines Flight 175 hit the second building.
Security personnel, during this crucial sixteen and a half minutes, told office workers to relax and return to their desks. Everything was under control. Relax.
Those who followed this advice, for the most part, are dead.
"Don't worry" P.A. Announcements were made throughout the South Tower during that interval between jets crashing.
Survivors tell stories of guards on various floors giving instructions that created widows and orphans.
Statistically, given the vast array of protective service employees who worked at the World Trade Center that day, one of these guards or announcement-makers must have survived.
So where is he?
In a world in which media finds every name attached to a dramatic story, no one's talking. You won't find the name on the internet.
Even after ten years.
He's probably hoping he can take his story to his grave.
But he should talk about it.
He committed no crime. He probably was following orders or protocol.
But there is a story there.
What's it been like, all this time? Is he in therapy? Counseling?
How's he dealing? Is he driven to addiction? Has he found peace? Has he talked to God about it?
I'm fascinated by the drama and the psychological angle.
How does one carry this burden?
It would probably feel good just to let it all out and talk about it.
It's a great story.
Listen, friend, you and one of the most significant events in American history are forever linked in a most tragic way.
Not your fault.
But let's at least hear your story.
I'm sure you could use a hug.
And I could use a big story before it disappears forever.
Somebody knows who you are. It's bound to materialize eventually.
I'll find you and then maybe we'll talk.
In any case, I'm headed to the Big Apple now.
I'm looking for a desperate man in a dark room, nursing a stiff drink.
With the world on his shoulders.