For years, Jason’s dream was to become a pilot in the U.S. Navy. By the morning of September 11, 2001, he’d retired those dreams after discovering that he couldn’t withstand the extremes encountered during flight simulations. He’d moved to Washington, D.C., but that morning he was in Roanoke, Va., where he’d just sat down at a restaurant to have breakfast with his grandmother.
“When that first plane struck, the first thing I thought was that it was too clear a day for something like that to happen accidentally,” he says. “Everything in flight school is about not hitting things. You’re wired for survival. That means knowing where you are and avoiding things.”
His grandmother was pretty old by that day, and she couldn’t see very well, so Jason explained what was happening to her. He recalls feeling angry, not just at the attack but at the way it was being discussed on the news.
“I thought the people on the news were jackasses,” he says. “Up until the time the second plane hit they kept saying ‘Maybe the pilots were disoriented.’ I was struck by the intentionality of it from the moment the news came on.”