Firefighters battle a blaze that swept through a warehouse in Oakland during a concert Friday night. At least nine bodies had been recovered and more fatalities were expected, authorities said.(David Butow / Redux)
A firefighter walks through the burned-out Oakland warehouse on Saturday.(David Butow / For The Times)
Firefighters walk through a debris-strewn warehouse where a fire killed at least nine people in Oakland.(David Butow / For The Times)
Titus Cromwell, 4, places a flower from his family’s garden near the scene of the Ghost Ship warehouse fire in Oakland.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
Daryl Norman, 63, of Oakland stops by the scene of the fire on his way to church in Oakland. “I had to come see for myself,” he said of the 36 victims. “God bless them.”(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
People stand at the perimeter holding flowers while watching crews remove material from what remains of the “Ghostship” warehouse fire, that burned and killed at least 36 people in the Oakland neighborhood of Fruitvale.(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
An art installation near the scene of the Ghost Ship fire.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
People pay their respects Dec. 11 near the scene of the warehouse fire.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
Mourners observe a moment of silence for the lives lost in the Ghost Ship warehouse fire at the Oakland Museum of California on Friday evening.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles TImes)
ATF agents map the scene of the fire investigation Friday at the Ghost Ship warehouse in Oakland. (Francine Orr/ Los Angeles Times)(Francine Orr / Los Angeles TImes)
Rain falls on the memorial for victims of the Oakland warehouse fire.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles TImes)
Jacob Ramirez, 4, left, looks on while his grandmother Eva Ramirez, 52, consoles Hillary Morse, 22, right, of Oakland near the site of the warehouse fire in Oakland.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
Flowers, candles and notes, memorializing those killed and injured in the “Ghostship” warehouse fire that burned and killed at least 36 people in the Oakland neighborhood of Fruitvale.(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
A man who identified himself as Ben P. reads cards on Sunday at a memorial near the site of the blaze.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
Kristen Grzeca, a music teacher at Ruth Asawa San Francisco School of the Arts, hugs Monina Sen Cervone, director of world music and dance at the school, on Sunday at a makeshift memorial for victims of the warehouse fire. A 17-year-old victim was one of Grzeca’s students.(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
After attending church, Teionna Cunningham of Oakland leaves flowers near the site of the fire.(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
A Seventh Day Adventist group prays on Sunday near the scene of the fire on 31st Avenue in Oakland.(David Butow / For The Times)
Genevieve Griesau grieves before a church service at the Chapel of the Chimes in Oakland. Griesau lost four friends in the fire which broke out during a party Friday night at a two-story warehouse and artists’ studio in Oakland, killing at least nine people.(Francine Orr)
Flowers are left near an Oakland warehouse where a fire broke out during a concert, killing 36 people.(David Butow / For The Times)
Dino Graniello, left, and Jessie Xenakis light candles near the scene of a warehouse fire in Oakland that killed at least two dozen partygoers.(David Butow / For The Times)
People gather near the warehouse on Saturday.(David Butow / Redux / For the Times)
In the desperate hours after the warehouse inferno — long before Oakland officials would release the identities of the charred bodies found inside — family and friends tried to cobble together information online.
From around California, as well as across the country and abroad, they signed onto Twitter and Facebook and shared hospital numbers and an evolving list of possible victims. Some found good news; others got a silence that felt telling.
For Cathy Proscia, the panic started inside her Boston home in the dark morning hours early Sunday. For some reason, she couldn’t sleep so she scrolled through news headlines on her phone, pausing at a story about a huge blaze at a warehouse concert in Oakland.
Her heart began to race.
She knew that her 23-year-old son, Jesse Simmons, who lives in San Francisco, often attends concerts on Friday and Saturday nights. Sometimes, when he can’t find anyone to go with him, she said, he goes by himself.
His phone rang and rang, and she tried not panic. It was 2:30 a.m. in California, she reminded herself, so maybe he was asleep. She called the Oakland Police Department, which directed her to the Fire Department, which sent her to the Alameda County Sheriff’s Department. She couldn’t get anybody on the phone and she didn’t have numbers for any of her son’s friends.
When Proscia posted at 6:01 a.m. she feared the worst: “Please can anyone tell me where I can find the list of names of those who perished.”
Some strangers offered prayers and others sad-face emojis. One woman told her that families were gathering at a local service center and another posted the best number for the local Sheriff’s Department. Proscia dialed the department again and this time got an answer.
The employee told her that officials hadn’t yet identified all the victims, but asked for a detailed description of Jesse. How tall was he, they asked? Does he have any tattoos?
“Social media was an enormous help,” she said.
Eventually Proscia sent a text to her ex-husband, not expecting to hear back. But he responded with good news: Their son had been in L.A. for the weekend.
Another panicked parent searched Facebook for answers in Finnish.
“Any news of Hanna Ruax,” posted Yrjö Timonen, whose Facebook page lists Helsinki as home. “She is my daughter.”
Early Sunday morning, Timonen posted: “Ei sanoja. Vain suuri suru. Hanna,” which translates to: “No words. Just a great sorrow. Hanna.”
For some, online searches led to heartbreak.
On Sunday afternoon, Robin Voss rushed to the airport to pick up her daughter Grace Lovio. She was flying home from Paris, where she is studying abroad, after discovering on Facebook that her boyfriend, Jason McCarty, was among those reported missing.
Lovio skipped her last final exam to catch a flight home.
“There’s absolutely zero hope at this point,” Voss said. “They’ve recovered, what, 24 bodies? And they’re just now getting started, so I think that the possibility of having any hope is pretty remote.”
Voss had also turned to Facebook Saturday morning searching for information about McCarty, an artist who she said worked as a sound technician and at a hotel.
“I’m a friend of Jason McCarty and am worried sick,” she wrote on the Facebook page for the event. “Any news?”
She considered going to the scene, but chose to stay at her Vacaville home, where she and her husband felt they could stay better informed by checking social media and news sites.
“We could get a lot more info that way,” she said. “We did have another family member in Oakland at the time and tried to gather info for us and it was all cordoned off, and she came up empty handed.”
And for some friends of the missing, sharing news online felt like a duty.
A self-described “big Facebooker,” Carol Crewdson knew she had to spread the word after hearing that one of her friends went dancing at the Oakland warehouse. Everyone needed to know.
“Oh my god,” she wrote, “Sara Hoda is missing in this fire.”
She hoped that someone would respond saying Hoda was fine, but that never happened.
Instead, Crewdson heard from another friend who said Hoda texted her Friday night saying she had just finished meditating and was planning to go to the concert at the warehouse. The same friend said she spoke with Hoda’s brother, who said his sister’s truck was still parked outside the venue.
Before long, Crewdson posted an update.
“I’m sorry loves,” she wrote, “but it looks like she went with the flames.”
Crewdson met Hoda in 2010, when they started a collective — a landing place of sorts for traveling artists who couldn’t afford Northern California’s rising rents. They housed around 25 people at a time, sometimes as many as 32.
The Oakland party’s event page initially released a list of missing people to spread the word. But Hoda didn’t make the original list of missing, Crewdson said, because she didn’t have a Facebook — she didn’t RSVP to the party online.
City officials confirmed Hoda’s death late Sunday afternoon.
Times staff writer Sonali Kohli contributed to this report.
8:15 p.m.: This article was updated with information from the family.
6:15 p.m.: This article was updated with confirmation of one of the victims.
This article was originally published at 5:05 p.m.