In his gut, my dad knew it was a terrorist act: over 30 years of journalism experience had taught him that all too well. He threw on a quick change of clothes and was out the door in minutes. He told my mom that he was headed to New York to cover the story. My dad hadn’t even packed a bag — no toothbrush, no medicine, no change of clothes — just his cell phone and a trunk full of cameras and equipment.
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