Uncertain Fate and Legacy

This is an iHeart Podcast. Guaranteed human. Hello, it's Richie McClain Smith here. To let you know that I now have a substack page. If you enjoy Unexplained and want to go deeper into the world of the show, I've created a new space for all the bits that don't quite fit into the podcast, including the Unexplained addendum, a weekly companion piece to each new episode. Expect essays that lean more academic and analytical, explorations of folklore, psychology, And the shadowy corners of history that have shaped the stories you hear on the show. But it's also a home for something more personal. My fiction. My strange amusing. And the odd fragments that don't belong anywhere else. Searchard McClain Smith on Substack. or go to Richard McClain Smith dot substack.com Find out more and subscribe. If you'd like a little bit more of me and Unexplained in your week, join me on Substack, and let's keep exploring the unknown together. New writing most Tuesdays. The sunlight blistening off the waters of New York Harbor. The previous day had been foggy and oppressively humid. The culmination of a day's long heat wave. Thunderstorms had raged throughout the evening and into the night. With heavy rainfall pelting the city. But on that morning of september eleventh, Two thousand and one. New Yorkers woke up to cobalt blue skies. And a forecast promising sunshine all day. It felt like a fever breaking. Not that Dr Ron Lieberman took much notice. He was still bleary eyed when his alarm went off. and had to use every ounce of willpower not to hit the snooze button. Last night he'd met up with friends after a twelve hour shift to the emergency room. get home until after midnight. As Ron rolled over, he could immediately feel that the other side of the bed was empty. His wife, Sneha, hadn't come home last year. Ron wasn't surprised when he'd arrived home to find the apartment empty. Sniha had had a few days off from work and had planned to go out that evening. She was free spirited. Spontaneous. and had a lot of family and friends nearby who she could crash with after a night out. But Ron wasn't especially concerned. If anything, he was a little annoyed. He'd ask Nihar a few times now, to always call if she was going to stay somewhere else. Promised that she would. In any case, Ron didn't have time to dwell on it. Since he was due back at the hospital at eight AM for a morning meeting. As an intern, fresh out of medical school, his schedule was relentless. And so he quickly. Got changed and fed the kittens. Just enough time to pour some coffee into his thermos before heading out the door. As he rode the elevator down to the lobby of his building, he was still half asleep. And then he was outside, feeling the revitalizing effects of the crisp autumn air. Ron and Sneha lived in Battery Park City. At the southernmost tip of Manhattan. Living so close to the water, and being able to look out at the Statue of Liberty on a clear day was one of the things they loved most about the neighborhood. as he walked briskly over to the subway to catch an uptown train. Ron had no idea just how often he would end up looking back on this morning. All the small details he'd recall. The face of the street vendor selling sweeps of magazines. The whistling sound of a train pulling in below ground. Possible cobalt sky. The last moments of normalcy before everything fell apart. You're listening to Unexplained. The time. Richard McClain. The morning of September tenth, two thousand and one. Niha and Philip had the data herself. As a medical intern, this was a rare luxury. plan to make the most of it. With her husband Ron having left for work. She made herself a leisurely breakfast. spent a while playing with the new kittens they'd just adopted. She dug into all of the long overdue chores on her to-do list. She tidied and deep cleaned the entire apartment. Put on a load of laundry. Potted the orchid which sat in the living room window. In the early afternoon, she sent a message to her mother Ansue. Her mother lived a couple of hours north of the city in upstate New York. The family had moved there in the early 70s, from Kerala in India. Snyha and her mother were close and talked most days. Once they started chatting. It was hard for them to stop. And that afternoon was no exception. Neha told her mother about her upcoming plans. And reassured her that all was well at work. Her cousin Anu was coming to stay with her later in the week, and she was excited to show her the city. They had a table book, the windows on the wall. the famous restaurant at the top of the North Tower of the World Trade Centre. offering jaw dropping three hundred and sixty degree panoramic views of the entire city. Finally at around four PM Nihar told her mother that she had to go and run some errands. Bye. and then signed off. Sometime later, after finishing his shift at the Jacoby Medical Centre in the Bronx, Ron went out for drinks with an old school friend. So it was great to catch up. He ended up staying a bit later than he'd planned. At just after ten PM, with his eyelids starting to feel heavy. He called it a night. As he settled into a seat on the four train. Ron wondered, not for the first time, if they should reconsider living so far downtown. Battery Park City made sense for them when they'd first moved there. But now he worked all the way north in the Bronx. It meant having to commute the full length of Manhattan every day. Even if the trains were running well. It was an hour and a half each way. Time Ron finally arrived home, it was close to midnight. Almost falling asleep on his feet, he said a quick good night to the doorman at the front desk. and rode the elevator to the ninth floor. open the door to a dark, silent apartment. When he turned on the light. He heard the kittens meow, followed by the soft pad of their paws as they came rushing out to greet him. But Sneha wasn't home. Ron checked the answering machine. But there were no messages. It was still relatively early in going out terms. be some time before Snehar finally got back in. Even then she might end up crashing at her friends. If anything at that point. He'd rather she didn't call and wake him in the middle of the night. He fed the kittens. Brushed his teeth. and climbed into bed. He was asleep within minutes. The next morning. He woke to find that Snehar hadn't come home at all. Wrong. still a little irked that she hadn't been in touch, arrived at work just in time for his 8 a.m. meeting. It was a morning report, where one of the medical interns presents a standout case from the previous night's admissions. Ron was silently thankful it wasn't his turn to present. He still felt exhausted, and he made a mental note to avoid Monday night drinks in future. When the meeting ended at night. He headed straight for the break room to get a coffee. But something in the corner of his eye made him pause. An unusually large crowd of people were gathered in the waiting room. All staring up in silence at the TV in the corner. Curious. On the screen was a skyscraper on fire. It's upper floors, engulfed flames. It took him a moment to recognize it as the North Tower of the World Trade Centre. And then, after a moment. He finally tuned in to what the newsreader was saying. A passenger jet. had flown directly into the tower. Is this real? he asked a colleague, struggling to process it all. But everyone else was just as stunned and clueless as he wants. Before long. Everyone was speculating about what had happened. pilot must have lost control of the plane, some thought. Or maybe he'd been trying to make an emergency landing into the Hudson and miscalculate it. Braun heard someone crying. It was a woman standing behind him. Her husband worked at Canter Fitzgerald, she said. The financial services firm with offices on the top floor of the World Trade Center. Core wouldn't connect. Ron felt nausea creeping up from the pit of his stomach. He and Snehar's apartment was just a couple of blocks from the World Trade Center. This was happening on their doorstep. Walk a little away from the crowd. pulled his phone out of his pocket. Snehar didn't have a mobile, so he pressed speed dial one to call home. He felt a rush of relief as the core connected and started to ring as normal. The ringing just continued. and his relief quickly. Wherever Snehar was, it seemed she still hadn't made it home. just as Ron was in the middle of leaving a voicemail. He heard a collective cry from the waiting room. He spun round just in time to see the slow motion replay on the TV. A second plane flying directly into the south tower. Ron stared, uncomprehending. Smoke erupted from both towers now. Developing their upper floors. The room around him was now eerily silent. Settling over everyone like a smothering blanket. Alongside the horror of the sight. Everybody was quickly to the same realization. This was no accident. But Ron couldn't think about the wider implications. Then all he could think about was sneeha. With the incongruous disaster playing out right in front of him. His mind suddenly began to race. had she set out for home and got caught in the fallout downtown. What if she'd stopped round there to get a coffee or something and been hurt? He hadn't even tried to find her that morning. He called home again and again, willing Snehar to pick up. He left message after message, as if the sheer volume of them would somehow make a difference. Trying to keep his voice calm, he asked if she'd heard anything from her daughter. No, she said, explaining that she'd last spoken to her the day before. Then it hit Ron. that he hadn't actually spoken to his wife in twenty four hours. He felt paralyzed by indecision. His immediate instinct was to get back downtown by any means necessary. Closer to the last place he knew she'd been. But the rational part of his brain said stay in place. For one thing, the city was now on lockdown. Subway services were suspended, and roads would likely be closed too. Ron was also a doctor at work during a mass casualty event. Even though Jacoby was a long way from the Twin Towers. Casualty numbers were estimated to be in the thousands, and every hospital in New York was on standby to help handle the demand. So Ron had little choice but to just stay where he was, and pray that Snehar would get in contact with him soon. It was just over an hour and a half later. He and by now millions across the globe. Horror. as the twin towers collapsed in a humongous cloud of debris. He tried in vain to imagine the damage downtown. And how many more people must have been hurt or killed by falling glass, steel and masonry? He kept calling home. But still no one picked up. Soon his calls stopped going through altogether. The mobile network went down. may be overwhelmed by calls or damaged in the attacks. Either way. He was now completely cut off. By mid-afternoon, Ron couldn't take it anymore. Casualties had showed up at Jacobiette. But when he told his boss what was going on, she immediately told him to go home. There was no knowing how long it would even take him to get down there. Thankfully he was able to hitch a ride with an ambulance, headed downtown from the hospital. It was a surreal journey, going against the tide, as thousands of people fled northwards on foot. Meanwhile, all of the bridges and tunnels from the island were closed to traffic. Leaving the roads completely gridlocked. as they crawled slowly southwards. Ron saw what looked like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Then he realized they were in fact smouldering plumes of smoke and ash, so thick, they completely obscured the skyline. After more than six hours of travel, he finally made it as far as Tribeca. Ron was still wearing his scrub, so when he told the police he was there to help, They quickly. And then he was running. By now night had descended. All around the streets were pitch black. plunged into darkness by a massive power cut. The only lights to guide his way. with the lights of emergency vehicles and the flames of burns. It took him a while to find his bearings. But finally. He made it home to two two five Rector Place. Without electricity, the front doors to the building wouldn't open. He pushed and pulled at the brass handles, banging on the glass. in the hope that somebody inside might hear him. The lobby was dark and silent. Thankfully a friend nearby was home. And Ron was able to spend the night on his sofa. But there would be no sleep. As his mind raced, he tried to focus on best case scenarios. The phone lines were down. and the whole area had been evacuated. Likelyhood. Sneeha would be absolutely fine. Probably just been swept up in the Mayhem. And was now camped out somewhere for the night, just like him. But seeing his neighborhood transformed into what looked like a post apocalyptic movie. It was impossible not to imagine the worst. The next morning. Ron returned to his apartment building. By then the electricity had been restored, and he was able to get inside and take the elevator up to his apartment. Door. Everything had turned grey. After a moment, he realized that a thick layer of dust and so was covering the walls, floor and furniture. He'd left the window open at the back of the flat. Looking down. He saw little paw prints in the sur He followed them into the bedroom, and with great relief, found the two kitten still alive and well. But there were no human footprints to be found. No other sign of Sneha. By the following day, there was still no word from Snehar. It had now been three days since Ron had last heard from her. Like many people in the city at that time, Ron began to search local hospitals and call every colleague and friend of Sneha's that he could think of. But no one admitted to seeing her the night she disappeared. He filed a missing persons report. He had flyers made with Snehar's face and name on them. And he even tried to get the story of her disappearance into the news. But with the previous day's attacks, understandably dominating the news cycle. Producers and reporters had their hands full. Once they learned that Sneha had technically gone missing on the tenth, They lost interest altogether. Then Snehar's brother John dropped a bombsheld. As he told a local news channel, Sneha had called him on the morning of september eleventh. Trade center. After the first plane had hit. He said he urged her to get out of there. But she told him she couldn't. to stay and assist the injured. According to John, the last words he heard from his sister were I'm sorry. I have to help this person. And then she hung up. The story wasn't true. John had made it up out of desperation. It didn't mean any harm. He just hoped that by creating a hero story, he could get Snehar's face out in the media. And for a few days, it seemed to do the trick. Nothing came of it. It was around this time that Ron checked his credit card statement. and noticed a few unfamiliar payments that Snehar must have made in the early evening of September 10th. The day before she disappeared. Finally, he was able to piece together more of her last known movements. Payments came from a shop called Century Twenty One. A discount department store across from the World Trade Center. Ron immediately headed to the shop. and handed flies out to the staff and anyone else willing to take one. A short time later, he got a phone call from a clerk She confirmed that she recognized Sniha and had seen her on the 10th in the shoe department. Female friend. When store CCTV footage was eventually checked, Sniha was quickly, but shopping alone. It appeared that she spent an hour browsing and trying on various clothes. In the end, she bought a dress. Singerie and tights. Three pairs shoes, and a new set of bedlinnens. Shortly after seven PM. Cameras captured Sneha, leaving the store alone. Laden down with shopping bags, she exited through the revolving door and disappeared into the crowds on Cortland Street. Ron didn't recognise anyone else in the footage. Nor did she seem to be engaging with anyone. And had arranged to meet the mystery friend the store clerk had seen her with afterwards. Then, thought Ron, she and the friend went straight out for dinner and drinks. and Snehar had ended up crashing at her place. The next morning as Snehar was returning home. She could have been caught up in the terrorist attack. She might even have rushed to the scene to help. Just like her brother John had misguidedly claimed. been injured or killed in the process. All of that could have happened. There was no evidence to prove any of it. Despite his best efforts, Ron was never able to track down the mysterious friend that Sniha apparently met on the 10th. After leaving Century Twine. And there was no more evidence to confirm any of her possible whereabouts. Was that Last officially confirmed footage of Sneha is the CCTV footage from Century Twine. But during the course of Ron's investigation. Another piece of video footage emerged. One that potentially changed the entire narrative. This one was from the security cameras inside the lobby of two two five Rector Place. Nihar and Ron's apartment building. At eight forty three AM on september eleventh. A woman Snehar enters the lobby. She seems to hesitate, standing near the elevators for a couple of moments, but not pressing any buttons. Then she turns around and exits back onto the street. Less than three minutes later, the first plane struck the North Tower. The footage is blurry and low resolution. And the woman's face is impossible to make out, thanks to the harsh sunlight that bleaches the image. But a silhouette. haircut and clothing was said to all match snee hearts. And if Snehar really did return home that morning. Only to walk back onto the street. Just moment before the first plane hit. Then her dying in the attacks becomes a lot more plausible. But that footage wasn't the only new piece of information that emerged during the course of the missing person's investigation. Sniha's grieving family understandably wanted to remember her as a happy, successful young woman who died a hero. But the reality was a lot more complicated. One thing Sniha wasn't technically employed as a doctor at the time of her disappearance. been fired from her medical internship. at Manhattan's Cabrini Medical Center in the spring of two thousand and one. According to the official report. The reasons for her contract not being renewed. Well alcohol related issues. And consistent tardiness. Around this same time. Snehar claimed that a fellow intern at Cabrini had sexually assaulted her in a bar. After her allegation was investigated, the DA's office concluded that she'd fabricated the story. So Sniha was arrested and charged with filing a false police report. To give her her due. It should be said that, considering the shocking historical inability for law enforcement to get justice for survivors of sexual assault, This doesn't necessarily mean it didn't happen. More recently, Snehar secured a new position at a hospital on Staten Island. But she'd been suspended from there too. for failing to attend mandated substance use counselling. Fort records also indicate. That Snehar and Ron had been having marital trouble. And that she may have been unfaithful to him. Often staying out all night at bars with strangers. What exactly happened to the clothes she bought is another mystery. Perhaps she simply left them in a bar. Or maybe she really was seeing someone else. Who for whatever reason decided. and she left them at theirs, before later disappearing. All the additional context concerning Snehar's life. suggested to some that she'd been spiraling out of control in the months leading up to her disappearance. This in turn led many to speculate that she wasn't a victim at all. Rather she vanished because she wanted to. The fact she potentially just happened to do this during one of the worst atrocities in modern American history only clouded the issue. And there was one more revelation to come. On the morning of the tenth. Sniha hadn't just completed a few chores at home before calling her mother. She had appeared in court to plead not guilty to the charge of filing a false report. According to police records. She and Ron got into a huge fight at the courthouse afterwards. So September tenth. Two thousand one. Wasn't just a leisurely day off for her. In fact. It may have felt like everything in her life was falling apart. She and Ron had met as medical students, and until that year, they'd been on parallel upward trajectories. Day after their huge blow up. Ron headed off to his respectable hospital job. While Sniha, still suspended. Went home to an empty apartment and a blank schedule. What happened next is anyone's guess. Something she may have ended her own life. Some that she really did run to help when she saw the first tower on fire. and died in the process. Others have suggested the possibility that she actually ran away and started a new life. Using the 911 attack as the perfect foil. while others still have speculated that she was actually murdered the night before. Perhaps by someone she met while out at a bar. All of it is possible. Sniha's family fought a years-long battle to have her officially recognized as a victim of 9-11. Choosing to believe that she died a hero at the scene. Since there was no conclusive proof, she was at the World Trade Center. The court initially ruled her date of death. to be September 10th, 2004. Three years after the date she was last seen, as is standard for people presumed dead under New York State law. Her family appealed this decision. And in two thousand and eight. Court reversed the original ruling. The judge at the time argued. But even without conclusive evidence, any other explanation for her death, Required rank speculation. ruled that, like her loved ones claimed. The most likely scenario was that Sniha died after being compelled to help others caught up in the 9-11 attack. And perhaps there really is no reason to think otherwise. Today, Sneha's name. is one of 2,983 listed on the National September 11th Memorial in New York. But unlike most of the victims memorialized there. No phys of her has ever been found at the site. DNA evidence. No personal belongings. And no eyewitness testimony placing her there. Sneeha and Philip. On the night of September tenth. Two thousand and one. This episode was written by Emma Dibden. and produced by Richard McClain Smith. Thank you as ever for listening. Unexplained is an AV Club Productions podcast created by Richard McClain Smith. All other elements of the podcast including the music Are also produced by me. Richard McLean Smith. Unexplained the book and audiobook is now available to buy worldwide. You can purchase from Amazon, Barnes and Noble Waterstones and other bookstores. Please subscribe to and rate the show wherever you get your podcasts. And feel free to get in touch with any thoughts or ideas regarding the stories you've heard on the show. Perhaps you have an explanation or a story of your own you'd like to share. Find out more at unexplainedpodcast.com. and reaches online through X and Blue Sky, but unexplained pod. And Facebook. At Facebook.com Forward slash. Unexplained podcast.