Longview plant implosion: A moment-by-moment breakdown of disaster

Two weeks ago, a tank imploded at a Longview paper and pulp mill, releasing hundreds of thousands of gallons of caustic chemicals that killed 11 people and injured at least a dozen more. The industrial disaster is near the top of Washington's deadliest in a century.

Among the Nippon Dynawave Packaging employees killed were two brothers, a newlywed and a grandpa hoping to leave early for a grandkid's kindergarten graduation.

Search-and-recovery efforts have turned to funerals and investigations in the small Southwestern Washington city built by generations of mill workers. Nippon has shut down most of its operations at the mill but said it will pay employees until August.

The biggest and grimmest questions, like why the tank imploded and how the workers died, remain unanswered. Interviews with family, officials' statements and public documents provide a window into how the morning unfolded - and what comes next in a complicated aftermath.

Tuesday, May 26

The morning of the implosion, Gilbert Bernal kisses his wife goodbye and heads to the mill, where he's worked for 15 years. Jared Ammons arrives early, so he could leave later in the day for his wife's ultrasound appointment. CJ Doran waves away his wife's suggestion to extend their Memorial Day weekend staycation - if he doesn't go in, he won't get holiday pay.

6:30 a.m.

Doran, 26, heads out the door of his Kelso home to Nippon Dynawave Packaging, a pulp and paper mill near the Columbia River with about 550 employees. The mill each year makes about 300,000 tons of bleached liquid packaging paper for cartons and cups - the equivalent of 6 billion quart-sized milk cartons. Like Doran, most workers commute from homes in Longview and nearby cities, Kelso, Castle Rock, Cathlamet, Vancouver and Portland.

Bernal, 52, also leaves from Kelso. The electrician is worn out; he's earned tons of overtime the past several months from working six to seven days a week, according to his friend. A member of Journey Seventh-day Adventist Church, he plans to attend an end-of-spring hot dog roast with his Bible study group that evening.

Instrument technician Norman Barlow comes in from his Vancouver home he shares with his fiancée. At 58, he is an older worker and has mentored hundreds of younger tradespeople. But he's new at Nippon. He's been there for about three months, and already wants to leave. He thought Nippon wasn't using the knowledge he had or treating him well, his daughter said. He's had a job interview in Tacoma and another scheduled in Portland.

7 a.m.

The day shift begins. A group of workers gather for a safety meeting and get their assignments for the day. They assemble close to a towering 900,000- gallon-capacity holding tank, about two-thirds filled with a chemical solution known in the industry as "white liquor." The chemical, used to break down wood into pulp, is like concentrated bleach and burns worse than acid, medical experts say.

The company has had at least one problem with its white liquor holds before - in August 2020, an employee spilled up to 5,000 gallons - but the chemical has been a mainstay in the pulp industry for generations.

Bernal, Doran, Barlow and Ammons are there. Also nearby are Brad and Tyler Covington, brothers in their 20s who both live in Castle Rock, electrician Braydon Finkas, John Forsberg, Dale Miller, Robert Wilson and Dillon Miller.

Ammons texts his wife, telling her he loves her and she is beautiful. They had found out the week before that she was expecting their first child together.

Between 7:10 a.m. and 7:14 a.m.

The tank fails and collapses.

Thousands of gallons of white liquor pour out of the tank that appears to have folded in on itself. Anyone in the white liquor's path dies or is hurt. White liquor, when making direct contact with skin, destroys cells and can seep into deeper tissues, potentially all the way to the bone, according to medical experts. It can also produce the toxic fume hydrogen sulfide that damages the lungs. The rushing force of the caustic fluid blows out cinder-block shop walls and pushes, mangles and even flips Nippon 4x4 trucks.

Tyler and Brad Covington, Wilson, Dale Miller, Ammons, Finkas, Doran, Forsberg and Barlow are killed at the scene. They won't be recovered for at least two days.

Residents up to a mile away hear a boom; they don't think much of it, since they often hear sounds from the mill.

Nippon's water monitoring shows a spike of "high-PH material" entering the Columbia River.

7:14 a.m.

A Nippon employee calls the Nippon Dynawave communications center, per the company's safety protocol. Communications center dispatchers broadcast a medical emergency over the Nippon building loudspeaker.

7:19 a.m.

A Nippon employee in the dispatch center tells a 911 operator three people have chemical burns and one person is missing, an undercount that would soon be corrected. The 911 operator asks if everyone is safe and out of danger. The Nippon worker says he doesn't know, but a rising urgency in his voice suggests he doesn't think they are.

"We need rescue units, fire department, everyone," he tells the 911 operator. She reassures him they have lots of people heading toward the mill.

7:22 a.m.

First responders from the Longview Fire Department and Cowlitz 2 Fire and Rescue arrive at Nippon. More fire and medical units, eventually totaling five fire engines, seven ambulances, a hazardous-materials team and four chief officers from several agencies, are requested to the scene. Command center dispatchers call hospitals in the region and ask how many critical patients they can take. Some patients are ultimately sent 50 miles south to the Legacy Oregon Burn Center because their injuries are so severe.

7:48 a.m.

Emergency workers rush Bernal to PeaceHealth St. John Medical Center in Longview. He's in critical condition.

7:50 a.m.

At the mill, a 911 caller reports that a man in another part of the mill is having trouble breathing and throwing up.

The Washington Poison Center tells residents who live close to the mill they may be exposed to low smoke or gas levels and may have allergylike symptoms, but aren't expected to become ill. One resident, Don Summerdorf, who has lived in the neighborhood for eight years, later says he had chills and began feeling sick Tuesday night and wonders if it's from the sulfuric smell wafting down the street.

8 a.m.

CJ Doran's wife Alisa texts his phone a reminder to ask his colleagues about setting up a gym membership through Nippon. She doesn't hear back.

Minutes later, the Longview Fire Department posts on social media about a "major chemical explosion" at Nippon. The Fire Department asks residents to stay away from the site. News of the disaster begins to circulate in Longview. Jared Ammons' wife sees a Facebook post about something wrong at the mill. Her heart sinks.

10:04 a.m.

The 10th and final patient is taken by ambulance to a hospital. Among the patients taken in the less-than-three-hour span is Dillon Miller, who later dies from his burns.

10:20 a.m.

Family members start calling 911 operators to ask about missing loved ones. Some are close to the site and related to victims; others are out-of-state and calling about workers who either survived the implosion or weren't at work that day. They're given no details.

10:45 a.m.

Members of Bernal's Bible study group gather in PeaceHealth's parking lot to pray.

After their pastor comes outside and tells them Bernal died, they pray for everyone's healing.

11 a.m.

Alisa Doran tries to text Brad Covington, CJ's friend, but doesn't get a response.

Alisa and her husband's grandmother are redirected to the Association of Western Pulp and Paper Workers union's designated family assistance center where families of the missing gather.

Around that time, officials ask Alisa if her husband had any scars, tattoos or surgeries that might identify him.

3 p.m.

At the union hall, family members learn the nature and extent of the disaster, and are told the rescue mission is over. They've shifted to recovery.

7 p.m.

By Tuesday night, officials confirm one person has died, nine - eight workers and one firefighter - are injured and nine are missing. The Longview Fire Department later said four additional Nippon workers went to hospitals on their own that day, and six employees at a nearby Weyerhaeuser trucking facility also went for medical evaluation, according to a company spokesperson.

At a news conference, Washington State Department of Ecology spokesperson Anna Izenman says white liquor released into Longview's storm drain system, which connects to the diking system. The diking system's pumps, which discharge to the Columbia River, were shut off.

Afterward

On Wednesday morning, officials say an additional person has died in an Oregon hospital. Of the nine missing, they add, there's no reason to believe any are alive.

In the coming days, family members get confirmation their loved ones are among the dead. CJ Doran's wife receives a message from Nippon Dynawave about her husband's insurance and benefits, but the company says nothing of the incident.

Across Southwest Washington, residents try to make sense of what Gov. Bob Ferguson described as possibly the "deadliest industrial tragedy in modern Washington state history."

Meanwhile, environmental agencies flush water through Longview's drain system to dilute contaminated water before it flows into the Columbia River. It takes more than a week for pH levels to return to normal.

Chemical spill complicates recovery efforts, and four days pass before a team finishes the grim work of recovering the final worker: Barlow. Being the last recovered was characteristic of who her dad was, his daughter said.

"My dad always made sure everyone was taken care of before himself in life," Brooke Iverson-Barlow said. "It's only fitting that he did the same in death."

Seattle Times reporters Kai Uyehara, Joseph O'Sullivan, Elise Takahama, Conrad Swanson, Isabella Breda and Lauren Girgis contributed to this reporter.

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