00:58 - Source: CNN
The families never had a chance to say goodbye. 'That's always haunted me'

Editor’s Note: Miles O’Brien is the science correspondent for PBS NewsHour and an aviation analyst for CNN. He was previously a staff correspondent and anchor with CNN, based in Atlanta and New York. The CNN Original Series, “Space Shuttle Columbia: The Final Flight,” uncovers the events that ultimately led to disaster. New episodes air at 9 p.m. ET/PT Sunday, April 14. The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of the author. View more opinion on CNN.

CNN  — 

On January 16, 2003, I was in a place I loved doing a job I loved. I was the space correspondent for CNN and had been covering NASA and the shuttle program for the network for nearly 11 years.

Vincent Ricardel
Miles O'Brien

I was at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida to cover the launch of the space shuttle, Columbia. My team and I were at “the press mound” three miles away from the launch pad, which is as close as they let anybody.

As always, I was thinking about what I would say if things went really wrong. It was my responsibility to be that person.

The September 11 terror attack was still a fresh memory, and this shuttle crew included the first Israeli astronaut, Ilan Ramon. So, there was a lot of focus on security. But I was also thinking about the fragility of the space launch system. Engineers had been most recently vexed by a series of cracks in the shuttle’s main engines, and I was wondering if that had been solved.

But there was always something like that to worry about. The shuttle consisted of a spacecraft called an “orbiter” attached to a giant fuel tank and two solid rocket boosters. It had about a million parts that all had to work in synchronicity for a launch to go off without a hitch. There were a lot of redundant systems to add measures of safety, but also several so-called “single-point failure” scenarios that could most certainly lead to the loss of the vehicle and its crew. Indeed, the fact that it ever worked at all is still pretty amazing to me.

NASA/Courtesy of Scott Andrews
Space Shuttle Columbia launches from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on January 16, 2003.
Joe Skipper/Reuters
The crew of NASA's STS-107 mission attends a news conference at Kennedy Space Center in Florida on December 20, 2002. Pictured from left are payload commander Michael P. Anderson; pilot William C. McCool; commander Rick D. Husband; mission specialist David M. Brown; mission specialist Laurel B. Clark; payload specialist Ilan Ramon; and mission specialist Kalpana Chawla.
NASA
Space Shuttle Columbia sits on Launchpad 39A, atop the mobile launcher platform, at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on December 9, 2002.
NASA/Courtesy of Scott Andrews
The STS-107 crew members wave to onlookers on their way to the launchpad for liftoff at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on January 16, 2003.
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People work in the control room at NASA's Mission Control Center in Houston on January 16, 2003. Space Shuttle Columbia launched from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida at 10:39 a.m. ET.
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Members of the closeout crew help Anderson, front, with his launch and entry suit in the White Room at Kennedy Space Center in Florida on January 16, 2003. The environmentally controlled chamber was mated to Space Shuttle Columbia for access into the orbiter. Behind Anderson is McCool.
Karl Ronstrom/Reuters
Space Shuttle Columbia lifts off from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on January 16, 2003. It was the 28th mission for the orbiter, with the STS-107 crew set to carry out experiments over the course of 16 days.
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The VIP stand at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida is filled with friends and families of the STS-107 crew on January 16, 2003. Representatives of Israel were there as well to support Ramon, the first Israeli astronaut and a colonel in the Israeli Air Force.
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Chawla performs work in the SPACEHAB Research Double Module (RDM) on January 18, 2003. She is pictured through the tunnel linking SPACEHAB to the Space Shuttle Columbia's crew cabin.
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Some of the STS-107 crew are pictured prior to their sleep shift in bunk beds on the middeck of Space Shuttle Columbia on January 20, 2003. From left are Clark, Husband and Chawla. Along with Ramon, out of frame, they were members of the Red Team; Anderson, Brown, and McCool were on the Blue Team. The teams worked opposite shifts in order to perform continuous research for 16 days.
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The STS-107 crew pose for an in-flight portrait in the SPACEHAB RDM aboard Space Shuttle Columbia. This photo was on a roll of unprocessed film that searchers later recovered from debris.
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Clark looks through an overhead window on the aft flight deck of Space Shuttle Columbia. This photo was on a roll of unprocessed film that searchers later recovered from debris.
Robert Giroux/Getty Images
A store employee in New York pauses to watch a breaking news broadcast about Space Shuttle Columbia minutes before its scheduled landing on February 1, 2003.
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Kathryn O'Neill of Laguna Hills, California, and her son Zachary kneel by the entrance sign of Johnson Space Center in Houston on February 1, 2003. A makeshift memorial for the STS-107 crew had been set up there.
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Former astronaut and then-Florida Sen. Bill Nelson addresses the news media at Kennedy Space Center in Florida on February 1, 2003. Space Shuttle Columbia broke apart during reentry over east Texas at around 9 a.m. ET, and the STS-107 crew was lost.
Eric Gay/AP
Tommy Peltier of Houston stands next to debris from Space Shuttle Columbia that fell near San Augustine, Texas, on February 2, 2003.
Smiley N. Pool/Houston Chronicle/Getty Images
Averi Forline, 4, plays with a model of a space shuttle as he visits a growing memorial outside the main gate of Johnson Space Center in Houston on February 3, 2003. The memorial was created by NASA workers and other Houstonians in honor of the STS-107 crew.
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People attend a memorial for the STS-107 crew on the mall of the Johnson Space Center in Houston on February 4, 2003.
Smiley N. Pool/Houston Chronicle/AP
Capt. Gene Theriot, chaplain for the US Navy Corps, wipes his eyes as he and NASA administrator Sean O'Keefe listen to President George W. Bush speak during a memorial service at the Johnson Space Center in Houston on February 4, 2003. On Theriot's right is a portrait of the STS-107 crew. "To leave behind Earth and air and gravity is an ancient dream of humanity," President Bush said. "For these seven, it was a dream fulfilled. Each of these astronauts had the daring and discipline required of their calling. Each of them knew that great endeavors are inseparable from great risks. And each of them accepted those risks willingly, even joyfully, in the cause of discovery."
Joe Cavaretta/AP
Ron Dittemore, NASA's space shuttle program manager, displays a piece of insulating foam, similar to that which coated Space Shuttle Columbia's fuel tank, during a briefing for the news media held at the Johnson Space Center in Houston on February 5, 2003.
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Pieces of Space Shuttle Columbia that had been identified are placed within the outline of the orbiter on the reusable launch vehicle hangar floor at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida on March 6, 2003. The Columbia Reconstruction Project Team was attempting to reconstruct the bottom of the orbiter as part of the investigation into what caused the destruction of Columbia and the loss of its crew.
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Workers add the names of the STS-107 crew to the Space Mirror Memorial on July 15, 2003. Dedicated in May 1991, the memorial honors astronauts who gave their lives for space exploration. It was created by the Astronauts Memorial Foundation and is accessible through the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex in Florida.
Mannie Garcia/Reuters
Reporters ask NASA Administrator O'Keefe, visible in the monitor, questions about the "Columbia Accident Investigation Board Report" during a news conference at NASA Headquarters in Washington, DC, on August 27, 2003.
NASA
A member of the Shoshone-Bannock Native American community from Fort Hall, Idaho, displays a handmade item with the STS-107 insignia on February 1, 2004. Dancers from Shoshone-Bannock Junior/Senior High School also performed a healing ceremony during the one-year anniversary event at the Space Memorial Mirror in Florida. Students and staff of the Shoshone-Bannock High School had an experiment on board Space Shuttle Columbia.
Smiley N. Pool/Houston Chronicle/AP
Sandy Anderson, widow of Space Shuttle Columbia's Michael P. Anderson, is comforted by astronaut Carlos Noriega during the annual Day of Remembrance ceremony at the Johnson Space Center's Astronaut Tree Grove in Houston on January 27, 2011. Johnson Space Center Director Michael L. Coats is on the far left, and Evelyn Husband-Thomas, widow of the Columbia crew's Rick D. Husband, is on the right.
John Raoux/AP
Visitors look at display cases at the "Forever Remembered" exhibit for the astronauts who died on the Columbia and Challenger space shuttles, at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex in Florida, on July 21, 2015. The exhibit is permanent and "displays personal items from each astronaut and recovered hardware from both orbiters, including a section of Challenger's left fuselage with American flag and the framework of Columbia's cockpit windows," according to the Kennedy Space Center website.
Glenn Benson/NASA
Members of the Space Coast Voices sing the national anthem during the NASA Day of Remembrance ceremony at the Space Mirror Memorial in Florida on January 30, 2020. The crews of Apollo 1 and space shuttles Challenger and Columbia, as well as other fallen astronauts who lost their lives in the name of space exploration and discovery, were honored at the annual event.
Kim Shiflett/NASA
A wreath is placed in front of the Space Mirror Memorial in Florida during the NASA Day of Remembrance on January 27, 2022.

I always worried about the first 8.5 minutes of a shuttle mission the most. That’s the point when the main engines stop firing as the orbiter has enough velocity to remain in low-Earth orbit. At that point, the astronauts are in a relatively stable situation; you can safely walk away from the camera.

As part of the post-launch routine, NASA began sharing several replays of the launch from various cameras trained on the vehicle. And that was when we saw it.

Producer Dave Santucci called me into our live truck, and said, “You got to look at this.” It was kind of a grainy image of what looked like a puff of smoke, as if someone dropped a bag of flour on the ground and it broke open. We played it over and over again, and it did not look good at all.

The giant orange fuel tank was filled with super cold liquid hydrogen and oxygen, so it was enveloped in insulating foam. A big piece of the foam had broken away near a strut called the “bipod,” striking the leading edge of the orbiter’s left wing. It was made of reinforced carbon to protect the aluminum structure of the spacecraft from the searing heat of re-entry from space.

I reached out to some of my sources inside the shuttle program. Everyone had seen it, of course, but the people I spoke with cautioned me not to worry. The foam was very light, and it had fallen off on earlier missions and nothing of concern had happened as a result.

So, I decided not to write a piece on the foam and instead I turned my attention to preparing for coverage for another huge story: the US invasion of Iraq. I wish I hadn’t taken my eye off the ball. Space was my beat, and I was uniquely positioned to put this concerning event into the public domain.

Like NASA’s leadership, I went through a process of convincing myself that it was going to be okay. But I had this sinking feeling. It didn’t feel right.

A spacecraft re-entering the atmosphere at 17,500 miles an hour — much faster than a rifle bullet — is enveloped in a glowing inferno of plasma. It’s beautiful — the same phenomena that creates the northern lights — but obviously you want the crew to be protected from it.

So, any time a shuttle was coming home, I was worried. But in this case, I was a little more anxious.

I was doing double duty the morning of February 1, 2003. In addition to being the network’s space correspondent, I was also co-anchor of the weekend morning show — produced out of CNN Center in Atlanta.

When I walked into the newsroom early that morning, I asked the assignment desk to reach out to our affiliates underneath Columbia’s flight path. It was an unusually clear February morning all across the continental United States, and the orbiter was on a diagonal path from northern California to the Florida space coast. I thought it would be a stunning sight — worth seeing and recording.

I called the assignment desk at an affiliate in Dallas to see if they had assigned a photojournalist to capture the streaking space object that was the returning space shuttle. It was a fateful request, as it ensured that we would all bear witness to the breakup of Columbia. Streaking objects — plural.

Once settled on the couch with co-anchor Heidi Collins, I opened a phone line that tapped into the Mission Control audio. I wanted to make sure I could hear what was happening while simultaneously anchoring the morning show. I was interviewing comedian and actress Janeane Garofalo, who was sharing her concerns about the impending invasion of Iraq, when the communication between the ground and the orbiter became non-routine.

Producers in the control room realized the gravity of the situation, and we cut to a commercial break to get me off the couch. As I was making my way across the newsroom, I started heaving.

I knew in an instant that they were all gone. There was no survivable scenario. I was sickened. It was like a body blow.

Somehow I got my act together and started talking.

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I felt like it was my responsibility to mention the foam strike, to get the information out there to the public. About an hour after Columbia had disintegrated, I shared with a huge global audience what I knew.

Here’s what I said then: “Let’s try to put together what we know and give you a sense of where this investigation might be headed. Take a close-up here. That bipod is the place where they think a little piece of foam fell off and hit the leading edge of that wing.”

During the mission, I could have easily done a story about the foam strike, spreading the word that some NASA engineers believed there may be some reason for concern. What if I had done that? It might have made a difference.

Columbia’s crew had no capability of seeing the left wing, but of course, the US has an unparalleled fleet of spy satellites in space. Aiming one at the orbiter to assess any possible damage was a possibility.

But what could they have done? Columbia’s sister ship, Discovery, was already on a launch pad. It would’ve been heroic and perhaps a little foolhardy, but a rescue mission would not have been impossible, and I feel certain that if NASA managers saw that gaping hole in Columbia’s wing, they would’ve tried.

We will never know for sure, but I do know how so many of us on the ground failed to do our jobs during that mission. It still haunts me.