“At 9:00 o’clock that morning I was fussing with my children, and by 9:00 o’clock that night I was fighting for my life,” said Brenda Carroll Dowdell as she recalls the day that changed her life forever.
Dowdell was a passenger on the No. 4 train, when a man named Edward J. Leary set off a firebomb that injured 48 people, 14 seriously, on Dec. 21, 1994.
On the way back to the office with her coworker from a work meeting and Christmas shopping, Dowdell vividly remembers the details of this horrific act that changed the lives of so many.
“We were on our way back to the office and the train stopped at Fulton Street,” she recalled. “It sat there for a moment. My first suggestion was to take the A train to Hoyt street, finish our shopping and head back to the office, but my coworker did not want to get off. As we stood there, my coworker and a couple of other people started smelling gasoline and asked ‘What is that?’
“I suggested that we go through the doors to get to the other car because now the smell was getting more prominent, and I was getting light headed. As we walked over to the door, trying to open it, we heard this huge pop, and when we looked we saw this huge fire. It was a gasoline bomb, so the fire started spreading rapidly.”
The door to the other train cars would not open. To exit, the passengers had to go through the fire to get out. “When I got to the door, the heel of my shoe got caught in the ridges of the door and I fell backwards. My coworker was able to get off, but I was still on the train. I pushed my way off the train and rolled onto the platform. By now I was consumed with the fire.
“There was a gentleman, who got off the train and stayed with me. I could definitely feel the pain in my hands, face, legs, hips, buttocks, but my face and hands was where it was the most intense. I could literally feel my skin peeling back. I kept asking him what I looked like and he said, ‘Well, you’ll probably have some scaring, but you will be okay.’ As I would start passing out, he would ask me questions. He talked me through it until the police officers came.”
Rushed to the hospital, Dowdell, who was 40 years of age at that time and a mother to a 17-year-old son and an 11-year-old daughter, suffered second- and third-degree burns to 85 percent of her body. Doctors were sure that she would never walk or use her hands again because of the severity of her burns, would need 24-hour care, be wheelchair bound and would have to wear a mask for the rest of her life.
Dowdell, who was at first placed in the same room as Leary, was on a respirator from Dec. 26, 1994 until Feb. 10, 1995, “In total, I’ve had 14 operations and 23 blood transfusion,” she said. “They took all the skin from my back, thigh, legs and used it to cover my hands, feet and buttocks. I had to have extensive occupational therapy and physical therapy, specifically for my hands and feet, multiple injections in my face to stop the keloids and saw a therapist for a couple of years. That was the process. It was very painful. The hospital staff at NY hospital were some of the best. It was quiet overwhelming, but they made it a little easier.”
Now, 21 years later, Dowdell and the other survivors of the subway bombing are all coming together for the first time to celebrate life. They are rallying as part of the healing process and to make this time an inspirational time for themselves and others.
“From pain, we can derive purpose; from tragedy, we can derive triumph,” stated Brooklyn Borough President Eric Adams. “I appreciate that the survivors have the strength to come together and move forward in a public way, from which we can all learn and benefit.”
The Survivors Luncheon will take place Dec. 19 at Toms Restaurant in Brooklyn. “I am a firm believer in God,” said Dowdell. “I’m thankful that I came through. When you read all of the articles, they are technically about him, everyone forgot about the survivors, even though we are the ones who went through the worst part of the process.
“I want people to know that you can survive, especially in the light of all these tragedies. My children had to adjust when I came home from the hospital to the way I looked. I am a dark-skinned women, and when I came home I was white. This whole survival affects not only the victims but also the families.”
Dowdell’s testimony helped convict Leary, a computer analyst who was angry about losing his job. He received a 94-year sentence and must serve 31⅓ years before being eligible for parole. “I want him to know people do come through and whatever his intentions were it did not work,” said Dowdell.
Police reports at the time said Leary was attempting to extort money from the Transit Authority.
Now 61 years of age, Dowdell is back in school and has become a licensed minister. She is enjoying every moment she spends with her children and her four grandchildren. “It’s just a matter of survival,” she said. “You have to live. You have to know that there is something past all of this.”
Visit Survivors Luncheon on Facebook for more information.