Longview implosion victim CJ Doran was a newlywed building a family

CJ and Alisa Doran's life together happened fast.

The young couple met on a dating app and decided to meet up at a Salt & Straw in Vancouver, Wash., after chatting online for only two days. They immediately clicked, talking about their family and Christian faith and laughing as Alisa taught CJ Ukrainian, her mother tongue, using flash cards.

They went on two more dates over the next few days and within a week of their first, they'd made their relationship official. Seven months later, CJ asked Alisa to marry him. They were only engaged for a month before they tied the knot.

"We, I think, knew that we didn't have a long time," Alisa said, "so we just didn't wait any moment to go to the next step."

CJ, of Kelso, was an instrumental electrician at Nippon Dynawave Packaging in Longview. The 26-year-old was one of 11 workers who were killed May 26 when a tank carrying a caustic chemical "white liquor" failed during an early morning shift change at the pulp and paper mill. He and Alisa, 25, had been married for a year and two months.

This summer, the couple were planning on taking a trip to Ukraine, so CJ could meet Alisa's family for the first time before they started a family of their own. They both pictured lots of kids and wanted to adopt a child down the road.

CJ had been working hard to support their future family, Alisa said a week after CJ's death. He wanted to provide enough that she could stay home and take care of the children. During an annual major maintenance shutdown at the mill in March, CJ worked 12-hour days for three weeks in a row with no days off.

Even though he was saving, CJ was always generous, Alisa said. He still drove his old 2006 Toyota Corolla, though he could afford an upgrade. When he got a sizable tax return this year, he gave it all to his church. Whenever someone needed something, he didn't hesitate to give.

"He just dedicated his life to God and other people and never to himself," Alisa said.

When CJ came home from work, he smelled of chemicals, Alisa said.

CJ told Alisa that older workers were starting to leave and retire, fed up with poor management at the mill, and that he was concerned about safety because younger workers were coming in to replace them without proper training or experience.

Though he wanted to stay around Longview to be near his family, CJ started to search for new jobs elsewhere. He had just applied to a couple of jobs in places like Mount Vernon before the disaster.

The morning of the implosion, Alisa woke up with CJ and asked if he'd take the day off.

They'd had a nice staycation over Memorial Day weekend, and she wanted to extend it. They'd taken a cheat day from a diet they started to shave off some postmarriage "love weight and ate sushi and chicken katsu, played "Mario Golf and went for a walk.

But CJ said he had to go in, otherwise he wouldn't get the day's pay. So Alisa packed his lunch box and said goodbye.

Around 8 a.m., she texted CJ a reminder to ask about setting up a gym membership through work, but she never heard back. She didn't think that was unusual until CJ's grandmother called, telling her something had happened at the mill and CJ wouldn't pick up. She started texting and calling.

The family heard nothing from the company. Alisa texted Brad Covington, whom she and CJ had become friends with and were planning to go on a lake trip with, but heard nothing.

Brad and his brother Tyler were also killed in the incident.

Alisa reached a worker at the mill and asked him to call for CJ on their radios and to call her back if he responded. She heard nothing.

She called local hospitals, but CJ wasn't on their patient lists. She and CJ's grandmother rushed to the mill but were redirected to the union's designated family assistance center.

They gathered with other families. Authorities began asking Alisa if CJ had any scars, tattoos or surgeries that might identify him, but she was taken aback, responding, "my husband isn't dead, why are you asking me these questions?"

At 3 p.m., someone from the coroner's office arrived at the hall and said the rescue mission was over, that it was now a recovery mission. They didn't expect anyone to be alive.

"I didn't believe that," Alisa said.

She thought about the ways he could have survived, that he might be hiding. Then she agonized wondering if he might've been left behind and was still dying. It wasn't until she got the coroner's report later that week that she believed he died instantly.

The first thing she heard from CJ's company after the incident was about his insurance and benefits. There was no apology and no explanation.

Alisa, like many families, wants answers: How did this happen? Who is responsible?

Right now, those answers remain to be seen as the U.S. Chemical Safety and Hazard Investigation Board launches an inquiry into the tragedy.

CJ always wanted to travel but was hesitant to leave his hometown, Alisa said. He told her, "Once I go to heaven, I'll go and travel."

They both wanted to travel to Japan, she said. " So maybe he's in Japan right now."

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This story was originally published June 4, 2026 at 4:49 PM.