A New York Police Department (NYPD) officer stands in front of a bullet-shattered window at 345 Park Avenue on Park Avenue after the 2025 on Monday evening, July 29, the attacker killed four people and then turned the gun on himself. The suspect, identified as 27-year-old Shane Tamura, shot and killed a police officer and three civilians, the New York Police Department said. (Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images)
It was the white noise of helicopter blades in the air – not the incessant sirens of emergency vehicles – and it told me something was wrong.
In New York, the chaos—the wailing of an ambulance, the incessant honking of horns—is so commonplace that it becomes an overlooked, repetitive chorus. That’s why when I heard the sounds of fire engines and police cars while sitting on the 14th floor of my co-working space in midtown Manhattan, I didn’t think much of them. Last week there was some kind of festival in the street with live singing that lasted for an hour. I thought it was the soundtrack of the city.
It was already after 6:30pm, but I needed another hour of attention to complete a project for a client. I was in a designated “quiet” area where people are not allowed to speak loudly. We sat about five and did our work. But every 10 minutes or so, people from other rooms would gather on the floor behind me to look out the window and mumble quietly to each other. After about half an hour I decided to pack up and go home because the distraction was too much.
Then the helicopters arrived. Something is wrong.
Until 19:00 I put my laptop in my backpack, took the last few sips of my mango tea and went to the main workspace to throw out the trash. That’s when I started catching snippets of full voice conversations.
Something about an active shooter.
Something about the building across the street.
Something about us being stuck here.
That can’t possibly be rightI thought. I even asked one guy if there was an alternate exit, but he just shrugged and walked away.
I quickly slung my laptop bag over my shoulder and headed to the lobby to find out for myself. When I was on the ground floor, I could see the commotion behind the wall-to-wall glass doors and a blue wave of police officers walking back and forth down the street. I realized that every word I heard was true.
Later we will find out that around 6:30 p.m. A 27-year-old man named Shane Devon Tamura entered 345 Park Ave on the M4. and opened fire in the lobby before heading to the elevator to continue his rampage upstairs, tragically killing four people and himself. As a result, the building I was in, which was directly across the street, was locked down.
Anadolu/Getty Images
Security forces take action after 2025 July 28 In New York, United States, a suspect armed with an assault rifle shot dead a police officer and a civilian. (Photo by Selcuk Acar/Anadolu via Getty Images)
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But at that moment, details were scarce. Yes, the lobby clerks confirmed that there was an active shooter across the street. And no, we couldn’t leave the building. Instead, I and about 10 other people in the lobby were told by a guard to do something I thought I would never do: “shelter in place.”
If the shooter’s confirmation had sparked fear in me, those three little words—an order to stay put—ignited it. I knew shelter in place was an important goal for emergency services to reduce the threat. But wasn’t the cover set up like the people in the South Tower were told to do after they hit the North Tower on 9/11? Wasn’t the shelter a substitute for what people who had no other way to escape did when Hurricane Katrina hit? Wasn’t sheltering in place what people in Paradise, California were forced to do when the roads were blocked and there was no way to escape the fires?
Living in this city means always being on guard and ready for a red alert. You know exactly how many seconds of eye contact it takes for a dangerous person to know you see them, but not look at them. You know how to look before you cross the street. You know where to sit on the train and how to position yourself so that you are least likely to become a victim of crime.
As I read about other tragedies, I told myself that sheltering in place is not always the safest option and that I would take a break if I were in that situation. But in a moment of growing anxiety and shock at how close I was to danger, I didn’t run and fight as I had hoped and planned from the comfort of my home. I turned on my heel and headed back to the elevator landing to join everyone else back to the 14th floor.
“Stay away from the windows,” the lobby reminded us as we waited for the elevator doors to open.
Back at the top, there were mixed reactions. Some people were specifically looking out the windows, trying to understand what was going on in the office building in front of us. Others looked like they were still hard at work on their laptops. Even more were probably hidden in other rooms. But it was awfully quiet. As I walked the floor looking for the safest place to settle, I caught the eye of a kind stranger who must have noticed the confusion on my face.
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Anadolu/Getty Images
Security forces take action after 2025 July 28 In New York, United States, a suspect armed with an assault rifle shot dead a police officer and a civilian. (Photo by Selcuk Acar/Anadolu via Getty Images)
“Should I be more worried?” – I told him, looking for comfort.
“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not.” He kindly invited me to sit with him and his girlfriend, but I wanted another wall between the outside windows and me. Instead, by 7:30 p.m. I was banished to an inner office, oscillating between my Twitter feed, CNN, and a message chain with concerned friends—one of whom actually worked in a building across the street but was (thankfully) working from home that day.
At the time, no one knew exactly what was going on. They did not know if the shooter was a lone gunman or if he had accomplices in the building. I watched footage online of people being handcuffed and escorted from the scene right in front of my building. Officials did not know if this was an isolated incident or if more could be expected in the area. One person on my floor casually mentioned that he was worried that the shooter might have a bomb.
I knew the people across the street were in more danger than I was. I knew that the terror they were experiencing was the most serious. And at the same time, I had to remind myself that I was still in a very real danger zone and I had to take it seriously. That I could not minimize or ignore the emotional and physical impact of this event, even though I and those around me were not at the center of it. The proximity of danger also causes panic and leaves an effect even after you are clear.
I sat in that inner office and nervously listened to the news that came over the loudspeaker every 20 minutes or so, reminding us to stay put and stay away from the windows. At 20:30 we finally got a different message: we can leave the building through the side exit.
I’m ashamed to say that I barely glanced at the other people on the floor or muttered a goodbye before rushing to the elevator to go down and exit through an exit I hadn’t seen before. As I hurriedly walked the half mile from the crime scene before getting on the subway, I didn’t have time to think about what had just happened.
Everyone has a plan, they say, until it hits you in the mouth. Sometimes there is a gap between how we think we will behave and what we actually do in unpredictable and anxious moments. Are we nice? Are we brave? Are we selfless? Do we unravel? Are we improving? Are we faltering?
No matter how you deal with dire situations, you shouldn’t judge yourself too harshly. As a New Yorker, I had to remind myself that this city is completely unpredictable. Even the best laid plans fall apart every day. I am grateful to be able to plan for the next day.
Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like featured on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com. This article originally appeared on HuffPost in 2025. in August
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