I heard this fellow speak about what they did at Fresh Kills. The mechanics of organizing and then managing the biggest collection of evidence from the largest crime scene in history. The grisly things they found, the personal things they found that people lost. Some items like watches that worked perfectly, wedding rings, photos, etc. How some of them could not stop working trying to put the pieces back together. How they wanted to find anything they could for the families. Any little piece of something they could give to a loved one.
At the end of his talk he pulled out a metal washer from his pocket. It didn't look like much. But it had been part of the WTC. A washer a bolt had been used with. It's hard to explain the way he looked at that small piece of metal. He passed it around the room and we all touched it. The room was almost church like as this happened. Silent. People looked grim. They looked sad. They remembered that day. Where they were. What had happened. How it happened and who made it happen.
I don't care if that man has that little piece of the WTC in his pocket. It's not news. It's human nature. The nature of a decent man.