Echelon crash: Six months of healing

AUSTIN (KXAN) - The precious joys of life -- exchanging wedding vows, the birth of a newborn -- have something in common with unforeseeable tragedies such as planes slamming into buildings.

Because the moment may be brief, but our memories and the impact on our lives lasts a lifetime.

Six months ago this week, a suicide pilot crashed his airplane into the Echelon Building.

Thirteen people were hurt and two died, including the pilot. The badly damaged building is still under repair -- as are the hearts of people affected that day.

"A gigantic fireball hit, probably 50 feet wide, then windows blew out, then insulation blew out, then the fire started," said eyewitness Jerry Cullen.

Mid-morning on a quiet mid-week day, all hell broke lose. Disgruntled software engineer Joe Stack, a grudge against the IRS burning a hole in his gut, set his own house on fire and then slammed his single-engine plane into Echelon Building Number One, a headquarters for the IRS. The damage: Devastating.

"I jumped underneath the desk and then another explosion went off," said witness Rene Sadlier. "And that's when we went out the back door."

David Fernandez, another witness, said at the time he was looking up at the wreckage: "You know there's fatalities in that building right now and thinking about that just makes it worse."

The fireball grew, the building in a shambles, workers inside scrambled to safety as rescue units rushed to the scene.

"I can't believe that 40 gallons of aviation fuel would create that kind of fireball over that large area," said Greg Keith, former NTSB investigator.

Thirteen people were injured, two with serious burns. Two were dead: the pilot, and longtime IRS manager Vernon Hunter. His wife got out unscathed.

Their son, Ken Hunter, heard the initial news on the radio and waited out a long, fretful vigil throughout the day.

"It's unreal to have something like that happen because I wasn't prepared for it," he said. "About 2:30 she called me, my stepmom called me, and told me my dad was missing. And then I kind of figured he would have been the last one out of the building because that's basically what he would have done."

By nightfall, they knew the worst. Vernon was gone. Vernon Hunter, 68, served 20 years in the U.S. Army, two tours in Viet Nam, and three decades with the IRS. He was friends with everyone.

"Just about everybody liked my dad because he was just that friendly," Ken Hunter said. "If you needed something, he would do his best to take care of you."

He was laid to rest a week later, before a throng of family and friends, who heard a pastor's message that rings true today.

"Make sure every time you think of Vernon, every time you pass that building on (U.S.) 183, that you -- in a fresh way -- decide to love people and not things."

The Echelon Building has been gutted and repaired. Reconstruction should bring new tenants within six to seven months, but not the IRS -- it is moving to a new, undisclosed location.

Everyone's still trying to move on from that day, including the Hunters.

"It's still kind of hard to get used to it, simply because it happened so suddenly," Ken Hunter said. "You never expect something like that to happen. Everyone has their good and bad days, but we're trying to make it."

This was Ken's first visit back to the building where his father worked, and died.

"I thought it was going to be a lot more difficult than it was, but once I walked around a little ways, it's not so bad anymore," Hunter said.

Buildings can be mended in a year.

Hearts take a little longer.