It was a gorgeous, crisp and nearly perfect September morning.
The sunrise had brought in clear skies, bathing the high-rise buildings in sunlight.
About 20 minutes outside New York City, in Clifton, New Jersey, Will Jimeno was waking up to start a day tour.
He started his day like any other.
He woke up, got ready for work and walked into his bedroom to kiss his wife goodbye. There, he kissed her growing stomach – with his unborn second daughter inside – and snuck into his 4-year-old daughter’s room to kiss her before taking off for the day.
He got into his truck, making the 20-minute drive into New York City.
Nearly 3,000 miles west, Joe Cirrito, a born-and-raised New Yorker, was waking up to start his day teaching for the Los Angeles Unified School District. Years prior, he spent his days teaching at Lehman High School in the Bronx as a special education teacher.
After arriving at work, Cirrito looked up at a TV and couldn’t believe his eyes. He stood there frozen. Everyone and everything around him stopped.
Complete silence. Horror unfolding in front of them.
Living the dream
Jimeno, who was born in Barranquilla, Colombia, immigrated to Hackensack, New Jersey, with his parents when he was just two years old.
From a young age, Jimeno wanted to serve his country and community. But it wasn’t until an incident happened at six or seven years old that illuminated his ultimate career path.
“I had become unconscious after falling down a flight of stairs. My mom called 911. When I woke up, I saw a tall police officer from the Hackensack (N.J.) Police Department. He was very kind to me. It became clear right then and there: I wanted to be just like him,” Jimeno recalled.
However, Jimeno decided to serve his country first – with four years in the U.S. Navy – and his community second as a Port Authority of New York and New Jersey Police Department (PAPD) officer.
Jimeno graduated from the police academy on January 19, 2001, in the 100th class – the centennial class with nearly 80 graduates – at the 22-story Marriott hotel, which was within the World Trade Center. Jimeno was assigned to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. He was 33 years old and living the dream of becoming a police officer.
And those nine months of being a rookie officer were just that – a literal dream – until a living nightmare happened on September 11, 2001.
Jimeno (right) with Officer Rendon during PAPD’s EVOC training at the academy.
Photo/Will Jimeno
Jimeno’s PAPD gradation at the Marriott with Officer Boel (middle) and Officer Wineberg (right).
Photo/Will Jimeno
Will Jimeno (far right) with Antonio Rodrigues (middle) and Officer McCarthy (left) at the Somerville (N.J.) Fire Academy during PAPD training.
Photo/Will Jimeno
Jimeno aboard the USS Tripoli (LPH-10).
Photo/Will Jimeno
Jimeno aboard the USS Tripoli (LPH-10).
Photo/Will Jimeno
Jimeno and his division on the USS Tripoli (LPH-10).
Photo/Will Jimeno
PAPD’s 100th class at the academy in 2000.
Photo/Will Jimeno
‘I was scared like a child’
That day, Jimeno had been assigned near the corner of 42nd and 8th Avenue in Manhattan. He was standing under an awning when he saw a sergeant and two other officers looking up and staring at something in the sky. The sergeant was following something with his finger.
“I couldn’t see what it was,” Jimeno said. “But what I did notice was that it went dark for a second. I didn’t hear anything with all the noise of the city traffic. I went back to doing my job, but a few minutes later, our radios crackled, and the police desk asked for all officers to return.”
Jimeno started walking across 41st Street, where he met up with fellow PAPD officer Dominick Pezzulo.
“I remember Dominick saying, ‘Will, something bad must have happened for them to pull us all off post.’ When we made it back to the police desk, I remember looking up and just seeing the lieutenants and sergeants in shock. I could see the concern on one sergeant’s face in particular, Sgt. John McLoughlin, and that caught my attention.”
Jimeno and the other officers went into the break room, where the TV was showing the World Trade Center with a big, black gaping hole in the North Tower, along with plumes of black and gray smoke coming out of the tallest buildings in the world.
“Those are terrorists,” one sergeant yelled out.
Jimeno grabbed the pay phone in the break room to call his wife.
“I got through and said, ‘Hey, something is going on.’ She was asking me questions, but I couldn’t talk. That’s when our inspector came into the room and said they were going to go down to the World Trade Center. I remember telling her I had to go and I hung up. That was the first time I ever hung up the phone without saying ‘I love you.’”
At that point, Jimeno had a job to do – a mission to complete.
“So, myself, Pezzulo and another senior officer went down into the 9th Avenue and commandeered a bus. We started loading up – there were about 20 of us. Sgt. McLoughlin led the way in a police suburban with the inspector,” Jimeno said. “We were about two city blocks away when the bus went silent.”
While they were en route from Midtown Manhattan to downtown, a second plane hit the South Tower. From that point, there was nothing but destruction. It was a war zone.
On September 11, 2001, just nine months into his dream job as a Port Authority Police officer, Will Jimeno was buried under the rubble of the World Trade Center alongside his fellow officers. In a powerful video, Jimeno retells the harrowing events, honoring the bravery of his fallen colleague, Dominick Pezzulo, and reflecting on the brotherhood that carried them through one of the darkest days in American history.
“I remember looking up and I saw people jumping. I saw people jumping by themselves. I saw people holding hands, jumping in pairs. And I just thought, as a police officer, we serve, protect and help people. But I felt so small in that moment.”
His mind shifted gears when Sgt. McLoughlin yelled out: “Who knows how to use a Scott Air-Pak? I need volunteers!”
Jimeno, Pezzulo and another PAPD officer, Antonio Rodrigues, who had all graduated from the academy together and were trained in fire and EMS, volunteered to help Sgt. McLoughlin. At that point, they had become a team of four and started running toward the towers.
“I’ve always thought of myself as tough, strong and brave. But at that moment, I was scared like a child. As we were running, there were human remains, plane pieces and concrete everywhere. I could see the concern on Dominick and Antonio’s faces. We forged forward though because we took an oath to serve and protect. People were depending on us.”
This crew’s bravery, Cirrito said, came to no surprise – especially Pezzulo’s.
A friendship forged after tragedy
Pezzulo, who was born in Italy and grew up in the Bronx, graduated from Lehman High School, where he later returned to teach auto repair, math and computer technology. And that’s where Pezzulo and Cirrito connected, ultimately teaching together in special education.
“The students loved him. He was a positive person to be around … his empathy toward others was second to none,” Cirrito said.
It wasn’t until a student of theirs died by suicide that the two came together to support each other – growing a friendship that Cirrito said was a once-in-a-lifetime bond.
“It hit me hard. That’s where Dominick, just being the human that he was, helped me get through the feeling that I should have done more. I should have seen the signs … I should have caught onto something. I felt connected and at fault. I was a teacher, and I should have known. But Dominick was always checking in on me. He became like a big brother to me.”
Their friendship later deepened over a shared passion: law enforcement.
Pezzulo always had his sights set on becoming a police officer and was working through the process with the PAPD while teaching with Cirrito. Cirrito’s interest came from his grandfather, who served as a New York Police Department (NYPD) officer.
Joe Cirrito, an LAPD officer, reflects on the unbreakable bond he shared with Dominick Pezzulo, a friendship forged in teaching and solidified by their shared journey into law enforcement. In a heartfelt video, Cirrito honors Pezzulo’s memory, carrying his friend’s legacy with him every day on the job.
“I started questioning myself. I had a career. I started a family. I was making all the excuses in the world not to become a police officer, but I wanted to do it. I always gravitated to it. Then, talking with Dominick, I started to pursue joining the NYPD.”
Pezzulo made the PAPD’s academy age cut off just in time at age 35. He had only been on the job for 13 months when September 11 happened.
Cirrito, who was 30 years old at the time, was full-steam ahead with joining the NYPD until he faced a life-changing move from New York to Los Angeles.
“In one of our last conversations, just before he was leaving for the academy and I was moving to California, Dominick was trying to convince me to become a police officer,” Cirrito said, pausing as his voice broke. “He said, ‘Hey, it’s not too late.’”
Cirrito made the move to Los Angeles but didn’t join law enforcement. He was about to start his day teaching when he saw the towers collapse: “I knew Dominick was there because he was Port Authority. I just remember yelling at the TV, saying, ‘The tower is collapsing! All those people are dying!’ I remember it like it was yesterday. I was just screaming and crying. And I knew then, I felt it, Dominick was there, and he had died.”
Second annual “The Dom” at LAPD’s Olympic Division.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
“Run to Remember” in L.A. in 2016, dedicated to Pezzulo.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito’s 120-mile run from Bakersfield to L.A. in memory of Officer Ian Campbell.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito out on patrol in L.A. in 2018.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito racing in the “Run to Remember” during L.A.'s half marathon.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito finishing the L.A. Marathon in full tactical gear, in memory of Officer Chris Boyer.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito out on patrol with the LAPD Olympic Division.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito at the second “Run to Remember” race.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito and his wife, Janine, and daughter, Bella.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Cirrito and his wife, Janine, and daughter, Bella.
Photo/Joe Cirrito
Becoming a five-man crew
Back at what would later be named Ground Zero, Sgt. McLoughlin, Jimeno, Pezzulo and Rodrigues made it to the entrance of the World Trade Center. Sgt. McLoughlin ordered Jimeno to grab some gear from the police suburban he drove into the city.
“Meet us in the first E room,” Sgt. McLoughlin said.
The “E rooms,” Jimeno explained, were set up throughout the World Trade Center, where emergency equipment was stored for first responders.
While on his way to the suburban, Jimeno saw a massive piece of concrete had fallen onto it, but he grabbed the equipment he could access. On his way back, he noticed thousands of people being herded out from the South Tower: “Now what I didn’t know at the time was that the South Tower was in distress … so it was confusing for me at the time.”
Once back with the four-man crew, Rodrigues threw on a bunker coat, helmet and Scott Air-Pak. Pezzulo and Jimeno only had helmets and Scott Air-Paks.
“We looked like firefighters with guns on our side,” Jimeno joked, quickly returning to the severity of the situation, adding, “It was then that we made a promise that we don’t leave each other no matter what happens.”
At that point, Sgt. McLoughlin told them to grab a cart to load more equipment onto it – leading them up to the concourse level of the North Tower. As they came to a crossroad – where they could have gone straight to the North Tower or down toward the South Tower – they decided to go down and that’s where they met up with PAPD officer Christopher Amoroso.
A Port Authority Police Officer hands a gun found in the rubble of Six World Trade Center to another officer Tuesday, April 16, 2002, in New York.
AP Photo/Beth A. Keiser
Port Authority Police Lt. John Ryan climbs up a flight of stairs facing an area of blue sky that once would have been filled by a view of the World Trade Center towers, Tuesday, April 16, 2002, in New York.
AP Photo/Beth A. Keiser
Port Authority Police Lt. John Ryan, left, and Sgt. John Flynn right, look at debris taken from the World Trade Center site as they work at ground zero Tuesday, April 16, 2002, in New York.
AP Photo/Beth A. Keiser
Port Authority police ride into the World Trade Center site Tuesday, Sept. 18, 2001, one week after the terrorist attack that destroyed the twin towers.
AP Photo/Ryan Remiorz
Port Authority police Sgt. John McLoughlin, second from left, hugs Officer Pat McGee as he makes inspection of officers at his final roll call in New York, Wednesday June 9, 2004.
AP Photo/Bebeto Matthews
Port Authority Police officers talk to a woman and man beside memorials left at the southern edge overlooking the World Trade Center site, Tuesday, Aug. 6, 2002, in New York.
AP Photo/Kathy Willens
Police officers of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey carry an American flag that flew over the World Trade Center towers, during the 11th anniversary ceremony marking the attacks on the World Trade Center, Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2012, in New York.
AP Photo/Justin Lane
“Chris had just recently been transferred from the bus terminal to the World Trade Center a couple weeks before the attack. On the way down, he was saving a woman … the fourth or fifth person he saved that morning. He came up to us and said, ‘Sarge, can I join you?’”
Amoroso had injured his left eye but told the crew not to worry about it: “He said, ‘Something hit me, but we’ve got to get more people out of here.’ And that’s the kind of Americans who were serving that day. Somebody who was injured, but didn’t care about anything other than getting more people home,” Jimeno said.
Sgt. McLoughlin, knowing Amoroso’s background, gave him the OK.
They were then a team of five.
“We went toward the revolving doors to the South Tower, but at that point, Sgt. McLoughlin told me to stay with the cart. The other guys went to another E room. I’m standing by myself in this hallway. There’s nobody. I saw people who had died. I heard concrete hitting. I heard another sound of a human body falling. And that’s when officer Bruce Reynolds, a 16-year PAPD veteran, walked up to me with a Scott Air-Pak on his back.
“And he said to me, ‘You know what kid? It’s going to be a long day, but we’re going to get a lot of people home.’ And I needed that. I needed that from a senior officer. We talked for a little bit, but that’s when the rest of the team started coming back up. Bruce started walking away and that was the last time I saw him. He died when the South Tower came down. They found him the following February, right where I told them to look.”
The five-man crew started pushing back toward the North Tower and that’s when Rodrigues asked Jimeno to switch spots with him: “He said, ‘Jimeno, you’ve been pushing this cart all the way from there. You’re tired, we have adrenaline going, and you’re pushing all this equipment, let me switch spots with you.’ And I just thought, ‘OK, teamwork.’ So, I switched.”
Halfway up the hallway, some FDNY firefighters and an EMT alerted Sgt. McLoughlin that the elevator shafts were buckling.
And that’s when they heard a massive boom.
They turned around, looking toward the lobby they were just walking from, and saw a fireball the size of a house. Everything was shaking. There were walls of debris coming toward them in all different directions.
“Run! Run toward the freight elevator,” Sgt. McLoughlin screamed.
“His thought was if he could get his team around the freight elevator, then hopefully the beams might deflect this explosion coming toward us,” Jimeno explained.
They all started running but didn’t leave each other – just like they promised.
“I followed Dominick but that’s when something big picked me up and threw me on my back,” Jimeno said. “I started getting bombarded with concrete. I grabbed my helmet and I had a chin strap on, but something hit me so hard that it ripped the helmet off me. All I could do was take cover. It seemed like it was going on forever. And then suddenly it stopped. The sound was horrific, immense. It was like a million freight trains just coming down on you.”
Jimeno couldn’t see or feel anything. He was in shock.
‘It’s all gone, kid’
“Sound off!” Sgt. McLoughlin shouted.
“Jimeno!”
“Pezzulo!”
There was no response from Rodrigues or Amoroso.
“I called their names for two to three minutes,” Jimeno said. “And that’s when Dominick said, ‘Willie, they’re in a better place.’”
At that point, Jimeno started feeling pain, noticing a large, thick piece of concrete covering his entire left side and leg – leaving his right leg up at a 90-degree angle. There was concrete by his feet and only a small open space nearby him, about three to four feet, to his right, going up about three feet.
“What’s everybody’s condition,” Sgt. McLoughlin asked.
“I can’t move,” Jimeno said.
“I think I can shimmy out of here,” Pezzulo responded.
Sgt. McLoughlin was stuck in the fetal position.
Pezzulo tried to get Jimeno free, but there was a piece of rebar, along with concrete, around him.
“He tried to get me out for a while, but eventually he said, ‘Willie, I can’t get you out.’ And that’s when I started hearing Sgt. McLoughlin yell because now he’s being crushed.”
At that moment, it was the first time Jimeno started thinking about his family.
It was the first time he thought about dying.
“All I could do was take my hands and cross them over my chest into the ‘I love you’ sign in sign language. It was something my wife and I would do all the time. I figured if I was going to die, and they found me like that, then hopefully they would tell my wife that I died thinking about my family.”
Moments later, Jimeno noticed Pezzulo was bleeding out of his mouth.
“Willie, I’m dying,” Pezzulo said to Jimeno.
“And I said, ‘Dom, hold on.’”
“He said, ‘Willie, don’t let anybody forget that I died trying to save you guys.’ I said, ‘Dom, I would never let anybody forget that.’ I tried to encourage him to keep holding on, but he was bleeding profusely.”
Pezzulo stopped and asked Sgt. McLoughlin for a 3-8, which is a break. He granted it.
That’s when Pezzulo, in his last moments of life, pulled out his sidearm, pointed it toward a hole above them and fired a round in a last-ditch effort to let someone know they were down there.
“Then he died. Right next to me. It was very difficult. I was hysterical,” Jimeno said.
Sgt. McLoughlin told Jimeno to “calm down and reserve his energy.”
“As time progressed, I asked him: ‘What do you think is going to happen?’ And he said, ‘Jimeno, we’re going to suffer from compartment syndrome. Our bodies are dying. If they don’t find us within a certain amount of time, then we’re going to die.’”
They were buried under the rubble for 13 hours when they suddenly heard: “United States Marine Corps. Can anyone hear us? Yell or tap!”
“I thought I was hallucinating. What we didn’t know was we were literally in the epicenter. We had both towers fall on us. They had stopped rescue workers from going in and looking for people because they were getting severely hurt by the buildings shifting and falling. But these two brave Marine reservists, along with a civilian, broke through the lines, went into the epicenter and found us.”
Will Jimeno, the former Port Authority police officer who was rescued from the rubble of the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks at the World Trade Center, reads from “Immigrant, American, Survivor,” a children’s book he wrote that draws on his experience, during an interview in his home, in Chester, N.J.
AP Photo/Richard Drew
Jimeno’s rescue took three hours.
During those hours, the three men were ordered to leave because they were struggling to breathe, but they refused to. Once they were able to pull Jimeno out, they told Sgt. McLoughlin another team was coming to get him.
“When they pulled me out, it was the first time I cried that night. I didn’t cry when the guys died; I didn’t cry when I got hurt; I didn’t cry all night. I cried because when they pulled me out, I looked up and I couldn’t see the towers. All I could see was smoke in the sky. And I said, ‘Where is everything?’ And that’s when a firefighter said, ‘It’s all gone, kid.’”
Jimeno was passed over 700 people to an ambulance, which transported him to Bellevue Hospital. It was closer to midnight now.
“I asked, ‘Where is everybody?’ There were all these doctors and nurses standing around. And they said, ‘You’re it.’ It just didn’t compute in my mind. It’s almost midnight and they’re telling me that there’s no survivors?”
Sgt. McLoughlin was rescued the next morning at 7 a.m. He was buried under the rubble for almost 22 hours.
The PAPD lost 37 police officers on September 11 – the most in law enforcement history in one day – followed by 23 police officers with the NYPD.
‘What would Dom do?’
After losing Pezzulo, Cirrito was more determined than ever to join law enforcement.
“I needed to finish what Dom had started,” he said.
Cirrito’s journey to join the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) started on September 12, 2001. He soon made his goal a reality, joining the LAPD at 35 years old – just like Pezzulo.
“It was LAPD or nothing,” he said. “I wanted to work for a large municipal police department and L.A. was it. I was persistent. I ended up tearing my ACL at the beginning of my career, but I made it my job to recover. I promised myself that I would work for both of us. I’m 150 mph every day I work because Dom is always with me.”
Cirrito, now 55 years old, serves as a field training officer with the Olympic Division. While on patrol, he routinely asks himself: “What would Dom do?”
“Dom has saved me a few times out on the street,” Cirrito said.
That feeling, he explained, happens both on and off duty.
In 2016, Cirrito, an avid runner, and fellow LAPD officer Kristina Tudor decided to make a 12-day, 420-mile trek from Los Angeles to Sacramento in their full police uniforms to raise money for fallen officers. During the run, Cirrito felt Pezzulo’s presence on his left side.
“During the run, there was one night … it was 2 a.m. and I’m spent. My brain is beginning to say, ‘Hey, I think it’s time that you stopped. You did a great job. You made a point, but if you keep going, bad things might happen.’”
At this point in the race, Cirrito wouldn’t let anyone run next to him. He wanted to be alone.
“I was losing it. But then suddenly, I thought I saw a shadow come up on my left side. I just felt like someone was giving me a push. Mind you, I’ve been running for days, probably didn’t eat and maybe I was hallucinating, but I swear I saw a shadow. I was almost going to be upset because someone was there, but I was looking, and no one was there. I felt this energy in my body. I was supposed to slow down after five miles, but I just kept going.”
While Cirrito is on duty, he feels Pezzulo there anytime he feels “those spider senses or the hair going up” on his back: “It’s just him telling me, ‘Hey, watch yourself.’ He’s always got my six.”
Before starting a shift, Cirrito’s ritual is to run up to the highest point where he lives in Orange County, California, to reflect and give thanks. There, he asks Pezzulo to keep his head clear, help him make good decisions, and keep his brothers and sisters safe.
“He’s become my guardian angel. I’ve kind of taken him from others, I think, but he can handle it. He can multitask. I feel a little selfish, but I lean on him a lot to this day. Every day that I go out for a run or get to work as a police officer, I think about Dom. He would do anything in the world right now to be in my shoes. To be able to run … catch up with his kids and see where they’re at … spend time with his wife. I’m going to keep going until my day comes to leave this Earth.”
Cirrito’s drive is to make sure Pezzulo is never forgotten and that starts with his colleagues at Olympic Division. “I’m not meant to be a sergeant, lieutenant, commander or anything. I’m just meant to be out there with my P1s … be a mentor, big brother or father figure to help them get through things. I’m just trying to give them a piece of me to take on with them … just like Dom gave me a piece of him. And we make room for Dom in the car. We squeeze together. They all know who he is.”
A New York reunion
Over the summer, Jimeno and Cirrito met in person for the first time at Pezzulo’s former PAPD Bus Terminal Command’s roll call.
“Going back to New York, visiting Dom’s command and talking with Will, I learned a lot about the officers who were with Dom. It created an even clearer picture of these human beings,” Cirrito said.
While there, Jimeno showed Cirrito where Pezzulo was standing post before heading back to the police desk, as well as the station room where he raised his hand to volunteer to help.
“Of course, it was the new guys that volunteered. That’s what the new guys do. That’s what they did,” Cirrito said.
At roll call, Cirrito presented Pezzulo’s former command with a medal he received from his first run and the thin blue line American flag he carried while honoring Pezzulo during the Half Marathon Run to Remember.
“Joe has been trying to meet me for many years,” Jimeno said. “It was a great moment to reflect and remember Dominick – someone who gave their life in service to their country, their community, but most of all, to their fellow officers. He inspired these young officers to understand that it doesn’t matter what part of the county, or what department we’re in, we’re all family. We take care of each other.”
Once Cirrito returned to Los Angeles, he said he felt like he had more work to do: “Everyone needs to know their story. Their names and their stories must never be forgotten because they’re still alive. Once we don’t tell those stories anymore or talk about who they are, that’s when the name dies. That’s when that person dies. As long as I’m breathing, they will never be forgotten.”
For those who know Cirrito, his work is truly never done.
“Dom helped me finally do what I’m supposed to do. Even with all my ups and downs in this career, I would do it all over again. I’m doing the job I was meant to do. I need to continue to focus on being the best example for these younger officers who are out there today.”
And with Pezzulo on his left, anything is possible.
If you want to learn more about Will Jimeno’s story of survival and resilience, his first book, “Sunrise Through the Darkness,” available on Amazon, shares how he learned to live again after September 11, 2001, through his continued work of healing and serving others. His second book, “Immigrant, American, Survivor: A Little Boy Who Grew Up To Be All Three,” also available on Amazon, was written for elementary school-aged children, detailing Jimeno’s story from Colombia to America, and how he followed his dream to become a police officer.
NEXT: Step into the gripping account of a Port Authority officer who defied the odds in the North Tower’s stairwell. This is a story of courage, resilience and survival amidst unimaginable devastation.
