Meran Paul, Features Editor
The crackle of her car radio reporting an explosion in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995, marked the start of an intense, harrowing chapter for Lee Hancock, a Sewanee alum (C ’81) and current advisor to The Sewanee Purple, who was then a regional reporter for The Dallas Morning News. Now, three decades later, featured in the Netflix documentary Oklahoma City Bombing: American Terror. Hancock reflected on the day America’s deadliest act of domestic terrorism unfolded, and she warned that its divisive roots remain potent today.
The documentary explores the events of that devastating day and the complex investigation that followed. It features a range of perspectives, including those of survivors, first responders, investigators and journalists like Hancock, offering a comprehensive look at the tragedy and its implications. It is the second Netflix documentary that Hancock has worked on and has been featured in; the earlier project, Waco: American Apocalypse, revisited the tragedy that unfolded when federal authorities confronted a doomsday cult, the Branch Davidians, near Waco, Texas in 1993.
Working out of East Texas, about 100 miles from Dallas, Hancock was officially off duty on the day of the bombing, having just dropped a friend at a local airport. Initial news bulletins about the explosion suggested a natural gas leak. But the date of the attack immediately struck Hancock. “Somebody mentioned the date and I had covered the Branch Davidian siege in Waco that ended on April 19th, 1993,” she said.” That siege, ending in a tragedy after a 51-day standoff with federal agents, inflamed anti-government sentiment, particularly on the far-right. The date wasn’t a coincidence; it was meant as a signal.
As the scale of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building’s devastation became clear, Hancock joined her colleagues scrambling to understand the catastrophe. Her assignment proved crucial. “One of the things we were all trying to figure out is who is in that building,” she said. In the first hours after the explosion, she asked the Government Services Administration regional office in Fort Worth for blueprints to identify offices and potential occupancy numbers. A receptionist initially agreed to provide that to a courier sent by Hancock. However, minutes later, the distraught receptionist called back. Hancock recounted what she said:“I’m sorry… We’ve had a bomb threat. I have to evacuate the building.” Bomb threats were erupting at federal buildings nationwide.
Thinking quickly, Hancock asked the receptionist to take the blueprints home and arranged for a courier to retrieve them there. “We had these blueprints that could show what parts of the building were most affected,” she said. This intelligence enabled The Dallas Morning News to produce a detailed two-page graphic diagramming the potential human toll floor-by-floor. “This thing was so impressive,” Hancock noted, “that ultimately the Attorney General Janet Reno used our graphic for a display when she had news conferences.”
As all agencies were trying to navigate the investigative web of this bombing, there were incorrect reports. “A homeless man in downtown Oklahoma City told the cops that he had seen a couple of men who looked Middle Eastern get in a brown truck and drive away,” she said. This resulted in an FBI alert that initially sent investigators and media down the path of international terrorism.
The reality, however, proved closer to home and was even moreprofoundly disturbing. “It was one of us, and that was horrifying,” Hancock said. The investigation led to Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols, Army veterans radicalized by anti-government ideologies, conspiracy theories surrounding Waco and extremist rhetoric.
Covering the investigation was fraught with challenges: getting accurate information from tight-lipped federal sources amidst a global media frenzy, navigating misinformation and the sheer emotional weight of the tragedy. Hancock urged that “the stronger impulse has to be, you’ve got to get it right.” The work demanded a grueling time commitment from 16 to 18 hours of reporting and investigating each day.
The tragedy also carried a strong emotional weight for Hancock, “Many times I would just cry my way home and take a shower and cry and then cry on the way back,” she said. Because of her coverage of Waco, she still sometimes feels a sense of dread from the middle of February, describing the lingering impact of such experiences as an emotional hangover.
Amidst the horror, there was resilience. The documentary highlighted and Hancock recounted the outpouring of community support where volunteers provided food, boots, gloves and comfort to rescuers and victims’ families. She shared stories of survivors like Amy Downs, featured in the documentary, who fell multiple floors in her office chair and transformed her life after that traumatic incident, becoming a triathlete and motivational speaker.
Participating in the Netflix documentary decades later felt like an obligation for Hancock. “It’s been a privilege to bear witness to this kind of thing,” she said, emphasizing the need to counter persistent conspiracy theories and ensure the story is told accurately. “People entrusted me with their stories and with information, and I feel really strongly that I have an obligation to help.”
She also underscored the importance of the title, “American Terror.” “It’s very easy for us as Americans to ‘other’ people, but we are just as capable as any people of great good and great terror: “this was us.”
Hancock hopes that the documentary serves as a “reminder and a warning,”, concluding that extremist thoughts and conspiracy theories have “ a cost, and it can inspire awful, awful acts of terror.”