Dave Legaz, a retired NYPD Sergeant and REALTORS® Relief Foundation director, gave the following speech at an event commemorating 25 years since the foundation began in the hours after the 9/11 terrorist attacks:
It’s hard to believe 25 years have passed since that perfectly clear, blue-sky September morning that turned into one of the darkest nights.
Those of us old enough to remember where we were on 9/11 will never forget—or in my case—where I was supposed to be!
I should have been at work for my normal day tour. While many might see my late arrival as coincidence or luck, I know in my heart it was God’s perfect timing.
Even though I still wrestle with survivor’s guilt, I trust His purpose was for me to survive.
After two days of clinging to my wife’s leg, too anxious to enter school, the principal asked me to be the one to bring my son on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001.
I did what any parent would: I delayed my shift, took him to school and headed into work.
At the time, I wondered: What difference could an hour make? But that hour, away from lower Manhattan, was God’s gift to me.
On my drive to work, I witnessed the unthinkable. At 8:46 a.m., a plane tore through the clear blue sky and struck the North Tower in a violent explosion of fire and smoke.
Just seventeen minutes later, at 9:03 a.m., I watched in horror as the second plane then slammed into the South Tower, confirming, in that instant, that this was no accident.
Minutes after the South Tower fell, at about 10 a.m., I was dispatched to Ground Zero, leading a platoon of NYPD officers.
I didn’t know it then, but I had already lost my partner Detective Brian McDonnell as he gave his life rescuing others from the South Tower when it collapsed.
At about 10:29 a.m., as we ran upstream toward the devastation, weaving through tens of thousands of people in the scariest moments of their lives, the ground began to shake.
It trembled beneath us like an earthquake, and in that split second of disbelief, we witnessed the North Tower collapse before our eyes.
The deafening roar filled the air. A massive cloud of toxic dust and debris rushed toward us. And daylight briefly turned into darkness.
As we joined the rescue efforts, we felt our boots burning on the searing rubble. The air choked with toxic dust, and the horrific smell of burnt flesh and jet fuel in every breath.
Then, with the office workers, tourists and residents gone, Ground Zero fell into an eerie silence.
The perimeter was sealed, leaving only us first responders.
For five relentless days, we woke up and dug through the twisted wreckage searching for life, breathing in the thick, deadly dust, and felt it settle deep into our skin.
I never went home. At night I slept only a few hours on a pew inside St. Paul’s Chapel.
Our country, and especially New York City, came together following the tragedy.
But one small act of kindness still gives me chills to this day.
On the morning of Sept. 12, the first time I woke up in the chapel, I realized someone had quietly placed a pillow beneath my head, gently tucked a blanket around me, and left a damp cloth so I could wipe the toxic dust from my face.
I may never know who it was, but their compassion found me when I needed it most. I will never forget that moment, nor the quiet grace behind it.
That type of support was everywhere.
Neighbors, friends and strangers rose together. Michelin-starred chefs set up food stations on the streets, and the community offered comfort, encouragement and supplies.
These kind gestures nourished our bodies and souls.
Five days later, I went home. I hadn’t seen my family since before the towers fell.
I was still covered in a thin film of toxic dust and took maybe the best shower of my life.
Allow me to get a little metaphorical here: Stepping into that shower felt like a rebirth.
It washed away the toxic dust, the fatigue and the intensity I had carried for five days.
And when I emerged, I knew I was ready to go back to Ground Zero.
I knew that’s where I belonged.
For the next few months, I reported to the Command & Control Center, assisting in the coordination of the recovery operations and ensuring that communications, resources and people got where they needed to be.
In the years that followed, Ground Zero reopened, the Freedom Tower was built, a powerful memorial and museum rose, and the U.S. military brought justice to the mastermind behind the attacks.
You know that story. Here’s what you may not know.
An estimated 400,000 people were exposed to the toxic dust and contaminants of 9/11, a deadly mixture that included known carcinogens.
As of June 2026, I am one of more than 145,000 people enrolled in the World Trade Center Health Program.
Nearly 98,000 members are living with at least one certified 9/11-related health condition. Since the program began, more than 57,000 members have been diagnosed with a 9/11 cancer, and more than 18,300 have suffered from PTSD.
It's hard to know exactly how many people have died from 9/11-related illnesses. More than 9,000 people in the program have died or disenrolled, but federal officials aren't tracking cause of death.
Like many first responders, I live with a constant fear. When will my toxic dust exposure come for me?
Today, I’m fortunate that my 9/11 health struggles are limited to GERD, sinus issues and the lingering grip of PTSD.
Yet beneath it all, remains survivor’s guilt.
I often ask myself why I was spared, and what purpose my survival is meant to serve.
But despite everything, I count myself fortunate.
I have the blessing of going home to my family each night, and watching my son grow into a remarkable young man.
From the darkest day in our nation’s history, I was able to find a small kernel of good.
A year later, I retired from the NYPD, trading my shield for a REALTOR® pin that I wear proudly to this day. I found a new way to carry on my mission to protect, to guide and to serve the people of New York.
Along that path, I learned about the REALTORS® Relief Foundation.
An unexpected connection that not only carries more shared history than I ever imagined but also gives purpose to my survival. To serve, to give back and to help others rebuild their lives.
That’s why I stand before you today, to remind us all that out of tragedy can rise hope and each of us has the power to be a hero.
After 9/11, as I was searching for meaning in my own survival, I witnessed REALTORS® step up in an extraordinary way.
In just 100 days, you raised over $8.4 million. Every single dollar went directly to families devastated by the attacks to help with their housing costs.
That moment of compassion and unity planted the seed for what would become the REALTORS® Relief Foundation, a lasting legacy of hope that continues to help families rebuild when disaster strikes.
If I was moved to tears by something as simple as a pillow, blanket and damp cloth, imagine the relief these families felt when REALTORS® stepped in to ease their financial housing concerns, just one of their many burdens.
My colleagues at the Long Island Board of REALTORS® still remember how emotional it was to hand out those checks.
The experience was so overwhelming that they often went in pairs, finding strength in each other.
From the start, RRF’s mission has been clear: to help families with housing needs after a disaster. Its creation was not just kindness, it was a declaration that REALTORS® stand with their communities when it matters most.
As we approach the 25th anniversary of RRF, I want to thank each of you.
Every REALTOR®, every local and state association, and every staff member who has supported this foundation with your dollars, your time and your heart.
Because of you, RRF remains the REALTORS®’ Charity of Choice, a beacon of hope for families in crisis.
May God bless you, may God bless our great nation and may He continue to bless every REALTOR® bringing light to those in their darkest hour.
Learn more about the REALTORS® Relief Foundation here.
