Book tells redeeming stories from Oklahoma City tragedy - story about three of the victims in the federal building bombing: excerpt from 'Their Faith Has Touched Us'

National Catholic Reporter, Dec 12, 1997 by Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda

What the women and men, working in rescue teams of a hundred at a time, experienced at the site of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building will inevitably haunt them for the rest of their lives: pieces of debris, twisted metal and shards of broken glass blended with the smell of death and reminders of those who worked here -- purses, pieces of clothing, toys, shoes and grisly body parts.

"It's worse than the most horrible `Friday the 13th' movie you can imagine -- you can't walk out of this theater," said 25-year-old Steve Mavros from the Oklahoma Canine Search and Rescue out of Tulsa. Mavros, who had been deployed to the site with his specially trained dog, Bucephalos, to identify the location of humans and human remains, said this was the first mission for several in their 10-dog team. "We would have a hit -- a human find -- but only find a piece of a body. I feel pity for the people who've been cut to ribbons, trapped alive in the metal and concrete. I feel shock, disgust and more sorrow than I can describe."

At the site that was once the Murrah Building, a mass grave opened up into what became known as "the pit." From the open offices above, papers from tattered file cabinets flew continuously into the streets below, carried along by the never-ending Oklahoma wind. A lone suit coat still hung several stories high from what was once the back wall of the building, testimony to the hundreds of lives that had once worked here.

Over time, Oklahoma City has confronted its injuries, revealing scars that run much deeper than the 220 buildings; piping, waterway and electrical systems; and hundreds of cars in the downtown area affected by the blast. Along with the ruins and changed skyline, Oklahoma City has also heard courageous and inspiring tales of those who lived and those who died; of strangers becoming family as rescuers searched for hope in what remained of this once nine-story building.

The world knows that 168 people died (171 counting the unborn) and hundreds of others were maimed and injured in the blast that ripped through the cool air that spring morning. And, while it is difficult to use the word "blessing" healing process, the stories of faith in this city community are also ingrained in America's memory: stories of devoted volunteers, of tireless rescue workers who risked their lives in the still-trembling building, of still-hopeful survivors and of faithful victims" families.

These are the stories that continue to heal the city's and the country's wounds. As Tom Brokaw said of his weeklong experience covering the terrorist act, "Oklahomans may feel more vulnerable now, a little disoriented by what's happened to them, but in their response to this madness, they have elevated us all with their essential sense of goodness, community and compassion."

Many stories testify to the honesty of this town of 500,000. There was no looting in this wrecked downtown. In fact, members still talk about how when the open vault of the Federal Employees Credit Union was blown apart by the bomb blast, thousands of dollar bills blew up into the air and floated down into the chaotic streets. What's extraordinary about that story is that for days following the blast, money was turned in. And when all the money was gathered and counted, the Credit Union ended up with more money than originally held in the vault Even the city's crime rate went down for several days.

There isn't much left at the fateful downtown site. A piece of the base of the Murrah Building remains Grass now covers the epicenter of the blast and its surroundings. The bombing site and the chain-link fence that encircles it have become a shrine, with visitors continuing to make daily pilgrimages to the place of inexplicable destruction. Spontaneously, new and returning visitors stand in revering silence at the fence.

This is truly a holy place. Those who come to the fence hope to touch the untouchable. They leave ribbons, pictures, signed articles, flags, live and artificial flowers, teddy bears and hand-scribbled messages of hope on cardboard and paper. Some have even taken the shirt off their back, literally, and somehow attached it to the fence with their personal message. Americans and visitors from all over the world continue to come to this impromptu Fifth Street memorial to mourn, to cry, to pray and to remember. And plans have been approved for a permanent memorial in downtown Oklahoma City.

It is important for the United States community to remember those who died in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995, but it is essential to remember how they lived. Although they never met each other, Mark Bolte, Valerie Koelsch and Julie Welch shared several parallels in their lives. All three were single young adults who integrated their faith into every sphere of their lives: family, church, school, work and friendships. They were federal employees, although serving in different agencies, who believed that their work -- and how they performed it -- made a difference in our world.