The day started as usual with no indication of the impending tragedy that was about to befall the nation. In fact, this day was supposed to be one of happiness and pride as I was about to see another Border Patrol Basic Academy class graduate and head out to the field. Border Patrol Class 472 would be the sixth class I would see graduate as a permanent instructor at the academy.

Class 472 was front and center at the morning academy formation awaiting its final inspection before the official graduation ceremony later that morning. Many of the trainee agents had their families present. As always, the pride the agents had in achieving this milestone in their careers was evident, as was the pride of their family members. After the final inspection, the students and staff gathered with the families in the academy’s chow hall, which for some would be their last meal on base.

Congratulations and back slapping was the order of the day and the once very serious nature of their training took a turn to the lighter side as they were now able to breathe a sigh of relief – phase one of their training was complete. All that now remained was the formal graduation, post academy courses, their field training unit phase and of course, the dreaded six and ten month probationary examinations. Little did we know, two hours later, we would all be in shock, in tears and angered beyond comprehension.

Upon arrival at the graduation ceremony, the trainees sat in the front of the auditorium, followed by their families and a large portion of their instructor cadre from all disciplines; Law, Spanish, Firearms and Physical Techniques. As a personal policy, I always welcomed every class to which I was assigned as a lead instructor when they entered on duty at the academy and likewise saw them off at their graduation. I was proud of them for enduring the arduous 19-week program. The graduation ceremonies, in many ways, were as important to the staff as they were to the trainees. We were honored to have been there to help them develop into the future of the Border Patrol. My introductory speech always reminded the trainees of this fact: “This Academy is a 95/5 program: 95% of the work is yours – 5% is ours, the instructors. We deliver the curriculum – the 5% - and you make the rest happen yourself. The staff and I are here for you – but you have to be here for yourself first. You have to want to succeed to make it through. You bear the burden to succeed.” Graduation was proof positive that they made it happen for themselves.

Presiding over the morning’s events was the Border Patrol Academy’s Chief Patrol Agent Thomas J. Walters. As the ceremony began, Chief Walters began his speech. He introduced the distinguished guests and other speakers as well as congratulated the trainees on their accomplishment. He went on to thank the families for both being present on this very important day and for being supportive of their Border Patrol trainees.

A short time into his remarks, Chief Walters was interrupted by a staff member who whispered something in his ear. Those of us who had been around a while knew this was something serious – perhaps a serious training injury here or in Glynco, perhaps an emergency telephone call from Border Patrol headquarters – but no one really knew. Chief Walters excused himself and asked that we remain seated until his return. What seemed like only minutes passed and Chief Walters re-entered the room. His face was solemn, his demeanor firm. In my experience, Chief Walters was always a serious man – he had to be, he was a chief – but he was always ready with a smile when he greeted you. This time there was no smile. He explained that there was a significant event that had taken place in New York City that did not appear to be an accident. He apologized and asked to suspend the ceremony for about 30 minutes in order to gather more information and coordinate with headquarters in Washington, D.C. As he left, the instructor cadre immediately went to the nearest break-room and began monitoring the news reports and television coverage of the event. We were shocked and horrified as we watched the replay of the first of the twin towers falling. On live television, as the second plane slammed into the second tower, we all came to the same conclusion… this was no accident – we were under attack. The second tower fell and our hearts sank. The images of people throwing themselves from the upper floors of the burning buildings wrenched our hearts and tested our mettle as law enforcement officers, Americans and human beings. As the images burned into our memories and began to eat away at our souls, most of us could not contain our emotions. The tears began to flow. Tears of pain, sorrow, and anger were now the order of the day. We were all angry because of the attack and the loss of life, but for most, we were angry because we were helpless to immediately do anything about it.

The Border Patrol has a long history of being called upon to respond when the chips are down. Like the many heroes of that day, the firefighters, emergency medical response professionals and law enforcement officers – we understood their situation. We go without fear towards the threat and into those places from which people are running in order to do what we can for our community and our country. To an agent, we all said, “If I had been on that plane, I could have done something to stop it,” but in the end, we were just helpless spectators to a new chapter of American history and the carnage that unfolded before us on live television.

As we gathered back into the auditorium awaiting the arrival of Chief Walters, I cannot recall a person who was not affected by what they saw or heard. As we sat there, “Not on my watch. What’s next? Let me get out there and DO SOMETHING!” played through our collective minds.

Chief Walters stoically entered the room and gave a statement regarding what he understood to be the facts surrounding the morning’s events in New York. He reminded us to stay focused on our mission and that the best course of action was to continue with our lives, to be vigilant and focus our collective efforts. He stated that additional information would be forthcoming and that some of us, including the trainees, could be called into action in the very near future. At that moment, I could not fathom how he had remained so objective and so focused that he could lead us in continuing with the business at hand. We all remained for the graduation and though the mood was tempered, the path forward had been set by the chief. We would all focus, carry out our duties, remain vigilant and wait for additional orders.

As graduation broke up, we said our goodbyes to our trainees from Class 472, knowing now that the world had turned and the threat they would potentially face in the field had changed.

The permanent staff of the academy was mustered by then Deputy Chief Charlie Whitmire. We were given additional information. By this time, the Pentagon had been hit and Flight 93 was taken to ground by the passenger-heroes in Shanksville, Pa. The personal fire which burned inside of me was filled with hate and the thought of vengeance upon those who attacked our nation. I wanted to be part of the solution. I wanted to take some overt action to keep this from happening again and I was waiting for my orders. As it turned out, Chief Walters’ vision and approach was right – the best solution to the problem was to continue to do exactly what we were doing – training professional law enforcement officers to take their place in the field – to protect the nation and all of our families from similar attacks in the future. The objective nature of how this was handled was a lesson well learned.

In 2001, the Border Patrol Academy in Charleston was located on an unsecured portion of a closed naval base. If additional attacks on government facilities were planned, we all had thought we would be an easy mark. Deputy Chief Whitmire allayed our fears and told us that based on the briefings he had received there was no known immediate threat to the Border Patrol Academy in South Carolina. He did what any good leader would do – he gave us facts and gave us something to do – agents, when not engaged in instructional duties would staff a checkpoint coming into the “Border Patrol side” of the base, 24 hours a day, seven days a week until notified to stand down. We would have 100% identification checks and not allow entry to anyone who did not have legitimate business in the area. We would staff roving patrols and be appropriately outfitted to handle situations as we encountered them. It relieved our desire to get involved – we were now protecting our house, our staff and our trainees.

As we stood up the checkpoint, there were some in the community that did not like the idea, but the majority of the people – especially those working on base - thanked us endlessly. They brought us coffee, donuts, sandwiches and cookies from home. They thanked us for our service and for protecting them while they worked. Sometimes they were overcome by emotion and offered their support with tears in their eyes. Their response was the same as ours – we may have been divided before 9/11 by politics or even socio-economic lines, but in the immediate days following the tragedies we were together – we were all just Americans again - of that, there was no doubt.

It was then that I was able to see the truth – over the course of my years of federal law enforcement service, I had become distrustful of people and I could no longer see the good in them. The images of personal sacrifice and risks that the first responders endured during these attacks were prevalent in my mind. These images and the kind words and deeds of those who we encountered at the checkpoint echoed in my heart. To think that during this dark and dramatic time I would again find my faith in others who did not wear the uniform was oxymoronic. The attacks hurt us as a nation and as individual Americans, but it strengthened us as a whole – it brought a new resolve to me – to have more faith in others and to ensure that this would never happen again if I could help it.

Looking back after 10 years and thinking about that September day constantly, I have to say that I learned a few things about leadership during the days following the events. One, when things are going wrong and people are instinctively reacting or operating on emotion, it is the true leader who steps in and says, “Let’s take a deep breath and analyze what we have happening. What do we know, what can we reasonably assume, what is the current threat and risk, and what can we do to mitigate the risk and take back some control of the situation?” Two, by focusing on your primary mission or job in a critical situation, you are doing several things: a) you are continuing to move the country forward – the world doesn’t stop because something bad happens – there will be a tomorrow; b) you are not making the matter worse and; c) you are able to focus on a task that will ultimately take you past the immediate event, that will allow you to focus on the future.

My biggest fear, of course, is a replay of the events of September 11. This is followed closely by fear of people forgetting about this day in history or minimizing its impact on our identity as Americans. I also am concerned with those within our country that use these events to create a sense of panic and fear within our communities.

As I move forward professionally, I have found the best approach to take during a critical incident is to apply what I learned from then Chief Walters and Deputy Chief Whitmire: Remain calm, focus on your job, remain vigilant and be ready to act at a moment’s notice. For me personally, it is important to remember the day and the sacrifices of so many – not just those that died in the attack, but the first responders who gave their lives trying to save others. I must also remember those families who also sacrificed and are now incomplete because of their loss. I must continue to honor their bravery, service and loss by remembering the compassion and support shown to me by the general public by just doing my job.

On September 11, 2001, we all lost as a nation, but in many cases, we also regained our humanity. It is important that this fact not be lost to those of us who watched the day unfold, but it is even more important that we teach these lessons of self sacrifice, service and humanity to our leaders of tomorrow.