09/11/2026
“Dad, did we get all the bad guys?”
I’ll never forget my oldest daughter asking me that.
Years ago, I brought my family to the 9/11 Memorial.
She was still little. Too young to fully understand why thousands of names were carved into the stone, but old enough to know something terrible had happened there.
I remember holding her when she got quiet.
She was sad. She was scared.
Then she looked at me and asked:
“Dad, did we get all the bad guys?”
I held her and told her, “Yeah, baby. We did.”
She couldn’t have known what that question meant to me.
Because 9/11 was part of the reason I became a Marine.
It was part of the reason an entire generation raised their right hands, left their families behind, and went to war.
We wanted our children to grow up without having to be afraid of the people who did this.
Standing there holding my little girl, surrounded by the names of 2,977 people who never made it home, that promise felt heavier than ever.
Today marks 25 years since September 11, 2001.
My daughter is grown now.
But every time I see this picture, I still see that little girl holding onto her dad, asking him if she was safe.
And I think about everyone who made it possible for me to tell her she was.
The innocent lives taken.
The first responders who ran toward hell.
The families who carried the loss.
And the men and women who raised their right hands afterward—some of whom never came home.
25 years later, we remember them all.
We say their names.
We tell their stories.
We carry them with us.
Never forget isn’t something we say once a year.
It’s a promise. 🇺🇸