Oklahoma City’s Symbol of Terror Is Brought Down

With just 150 pounds of explosives, a demolition crew did Tuesday what a terrorist’s 2 1/2-ton bomb could not, reducing the remains of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building to one last heap of debris.

After the first charges were ignited at 7:01 a.m. CDT, the gutted structure instantly caved in on itself, toppling like a wounded behemoth after a coup de grace to the shins.

Oklahoma Gov. Frank Keating, standing in front of the city’s oddly empty skyline, said he is relieved that “a symbol of horror and misery and agony” has finally been erased.

“You really wanted to kick the rubble and say: ‘ There, it’s over. You’re outta here,’ ” Keating said after surveying the crumpled building. “There was almost a feeling of exhilaration.”

A few minutes later, as if to signal that indeed a corner had been turned, a worker pasted over an inspirational billboard near the site. After a month of proclaiming “Oklahoma City . . . Our Hearts and Prayers Are With You,” it is now an advertisement for breakfast at McDonald’s.

The implosion, which was cheered by thousands of spectators eager to witness a few seconds of history, held special meaning for the families of two credit union employees still buried under the tons of rubble. The bodies of Virginia Thompson, 56, and Christy Rosas, 22, had to be left in the building when the recovery effort became too precarious. Orange spray-paint and a black tarp mark the spot where authorities now hope to find their remains.

“This is a good day,” Thompson’s son, Philip, told Mayor Ron Norick as they watched from the 15th floor of the vacant Regency Tower apartments.

A third person, Alvin Justes, a 54-year-old retiree who lived in one of those apartment units, is now also believed to be entombed in the credit union. He had not been reported missing until May 10--three weeks after the blast--when his landlord realized he had failed to pay his rent.

Once the site is cleared, officials will begin to map out plans for a memorial. The April 19 bombing claimed at least 167 lives. No decision has been made yet as to what form the memorial will take, but ideas have ranged from a children’s park to an eternal flame to a simple garden. It is still unclear whether a replacement federal building will be erected elsewhere in the city.

“With the building gone, you’re not going to be able to walk up and see the horror and imagine what went on there,” said Edye Zan Tipton, 55, explaining why she had ventured down to the teetering skeleton with her video camera the night before. “Even though it’s sad, it’s history. I want to have a piece of that for myself.”

Despite a warning siren, the collapse was sudden and surprisingly violent, physically jolting many in the crowd, which had been kept two blocks away. The east end of the building went first, followed by the west side, then the elevator shaft keeled over from the south.

Dynamite had been placed in about 220 holes drilled around the building’s base. Steel cables were hooked up inside the structure to help guide its fall. An electronic detonator triggered the charges, which were timed to explode at intervals over 4.5 seconds.

“It was a textbook case,” said Doug Loizeaux, whose Maryland-based company, Controlled Demolition Inc., performed the deed. Because of the structure’s instability, he said, planning the demolition was harder than most of his firm’s jobs, including the destruction of a Florida hotel featured in “Lethal Weapon 3.”

But this powerful act of finality, which had been delayed since last week to give lawyers for accused bomber Timothy J. McVeigh a chance to survey the damaged structure, did not sit well with Carol Cook, who had left her Tulsa home at 3 a.m.

“It was awful,” said Cook, 44, still shaken by the ferocity of the implosion. “You could actually feel the repercussions, which makes me think the bomb itself must have just been indescribable.”

As she spoke, a thick, billowing cloud was still rising from the ruins, coating the heart of downtown with the building’s dust.