Home | The Slate | 72 Floors Down: Escaping the South Tower on September 11, 2001, and the Twenty-Five Years Since

72 Floors Down: Escaping the South Tower on September 11, 2001, and the Twenty-Five Years Since

Sep 8, 2026 | The Slate

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Content note: Some passages in this article are graphic.

Twenty-five years can change a lot. But some moments remain as vivid as the day they happened.

On September 11, 2001, Kara Murphy was 29 years old and just a year and a half into her first job on Wall Street. Her office was on the 72nd floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center.

That morning began like any other. Kara emerged from the Cortlandt Street subway stop shortly after 8:00 AM and walked through the World Trade Center Plaza under a clear blue sky. She rode two sets of elevators to the 72nd floor, poured herself a cup of coffee and began working on the day’s assignment.

Then came a loud boom.

Looking out the window, Kara saw paper raining past the building. Within seconds, the scene was interrupted by flames.

“Get out of here!” she yelled, before running through the office urging her coworkers to leave the building.

When Everything Changed

At first, it wasn’t clear what had happened. The North Tower had been struck, but the South Tower appeared untouched.

Then an announcement came over the loudspeaker telling employees that their building was secure and there was no reason to evacuate. Some who had already started down the stairs turned around and began climbing back up.

Minutes later, Kara felt the floor move beneath her feet.

File drawers flew open and slammed shut. Paintings fell from the walls. Cracks appeared and the ceiling began to collapse.

A second plane had struck the South Tower just a few floors above her.

Kara joined several others and entered the stairwell. Smoke poured through the doorway, parts of the walls had collapsed, and for several floors they made their way through darkness.

Eventually, the air began to clear and they joined others making the long descent toward the ground.

On the landings were abandoned high heels and overturned coffee cups. Some people stopped to rest. Others quietly continued down. One man carried an injured woman on his back for 65 flights, refusing repeated offers of help.

Forty-five minutes after leaving the 72nd floor, Kara emerged from the World Trade Center.

Strangers Helping Strangers

Outside, the ordinary morning Kara had walked into less than two hours earlier had disappeared.

Emergency crews filled the streets. Firefighters and EMTs rushed toward the towers as survivors moved away. Across from the exit, a makeshift triage area had been established for the injured.

Amid the devastation, Kara remembers the countless small acts of humanity happening around her.

Near the triage area, a Hilton employee walked around pouring water into paper cups.

When Kara asked if he was there to help, he explained that he simply worked at the hotel nearby and couldn’t think of anything else to do.

It was one example among many.

People carried the injured. Strangers comforted one another. First responders moved toward danger. Kara helped care for Bernie, a security guard who had escaped alongside her.

By then, she writes, “all morning, strangers had been keeping strangers alive.”

Eventually, Kara reached her mother.

“Mom, it’s me. … I’m okay.”

It was only then that the emotion of what had happened began to register. Kara already knew she would come to see her life in two parts: before that day and after it.

The Loss That Followed

Kara had survived, but her family soon faced another reality.

Her cousin John worked for Cantor Fitzgerald on the 105th floor of the North Tower. No one had heard from him.

Kara and her brother searched hospitals. Family members organized search parties. Flyers bearing John’s photograph joined thousands of others on phone poles, bulletin boards and makeshift memorials throughout New York.

Days of searching eventually gave way to grief.

At a service for John and others who remained missing, Kara cried for the first time. Later, services that had intentionally left open the possibility of someone’s return were replaced by funerals.

Twenty-Five Years Later

Twenty-five years later, Kara writes that the scars are there, even if they aren’t visible.

Her cousin’s death remains a wound carried by her family. Each September 11 became a day of remembrance, and for years Kara reunited with several of the people who escaped alongside her at the Blarney Stone—the bar where they had watched the South Tower collapse after getting out.

Time has also given her perspective on the randomness of survival.

Her office happened to be just below where the plane struck. She happened to be in a particular place at a particular moment. A second chance, she writes, was handed to her at random.

She became determined not to squander it.

The strangers helping strangers she witnessed that morning inspired her to look for ways to help others, eventually including helping start an organization supporting newly resettled refugees.

September 11 also changed the way Kara viewed her career.

When she walked into the South Tower that morning, she was still relatively new to Wall Street. Over the years, she came to know the markets deeply. But eventually, “the numbers stopped being the point.”

Her focus shifted toward the people behind those numbers, the parents sending children to college and the workers hoping to retire without fear.

Ordinary Yet Everything

For years, Kara struggled with why she survived when her cousin John did not. At the time, John had a wife and two young children. Kara was single.

But 25 years is a long time.

In the years since, Kara fell in love, married and had a son and two daughters. Her husband makes her coffee in the morning. Her family sits down for dinner, trades stories from the day, divides up the chores and argues over what to watch on movie night.

They’re the kinds of moments that can seem completely ordinary.

They’re also the moments John should have had.

“It is the kind of day John should have had, too. Ordinary yet everything.”

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