On Friday, September 11, 2026, I returned to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport for its annual commemoration of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. I stood there with former Airport Commissioner Fred Szabo, which made the occasion especially meaningful. Twenty-five years earlier, Fred and I began our assignments at Hopkins on the same day, August 27, 2001.
For me, that date marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life and career. I had retired as Cleveland’s chief of police at midnight on August 26 and, after a Cleveland City Hall ceremony the next morning, I reported to Hopkins as the airport’s safety manager. Neither Fred nor I could have anticipated that, only 15 days later, an event would challenge the airport, its people, and the nation in ways we never could have imagined.
September 11, 2001, began as an ordinary Tuesday. Within a few hours, four commercial aircraft had been hijacked: two crashed into the World Trade Center towers, one struck the Pentagon, and United Airlines Flight 93 went down in Pennsylvania. For the first time in American history, commercial flights were suspended nationwide.
The uncertainty in Cleveland was heightened by events unfolding in the air around us. United Airlines Flight 93 had been traveling through Cleveland Center airspace when air traffic controllers became aware that something was terribly wrong aboard the aircraft. At the same time, Delta Air Lines Flight 1989 was mistakenly suspected of having been hijacked and was directed to land at Hopkins. Until the aircraft was safely on the ground and authorities determined that it had not been hijacked, no one at the airport could be certain whether Cleveland itself might somehow become part of the unfolding attacks.
For those responsible for airport safety and security, there was no time to absorb the enormity of what was happening. We had decisions to make, responsibilities to manage, and people who needed support as the scope of the attacks was coming into focus. In a moment defined by uncertainty, the staff at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport demonstrated focus, discipline, and a commitment to those who relied on them. Their conduct that day remains a lasting testament to service in the face of uncertainty.
The day was also deeply personal. Fred Morrone, superintendent of police and director of public safety for the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey—and a friend and colleague of mine—was killed while helping lead the response at the World Trade Center.
Twenty-five years later, returning to Hopkins with Fred brought that history full circle. We had arrived there together on August 27, 2001, neither of us knowing that, just 15 days later, we would find ourselves responding to one of the darkest days in American history. On September 11, 2026, we stood there again—not in the uncertainty of an unfolding national emergency, but in remembrance of those who responded and of those who never came home.
We remembered the 2,977 people killed that day. We remembered the passengers and crew of Flight 93, the first responders who ran toward danger, and colleagues such as Fred Morrone, who gave their lives in service to others.
Twenty-five years later, our return to Hopkins was more than a commemoration. For Fred and me, it was a solemn obligation to honor the professionalism and heroism shown that day and to preserve its lessons and legacy for future generations.
Martin L. (Marty) Flask
Retired Cleveland Chief of Police
Former Safety Manager and Airport Security Coordinator
Cleveland Hopkins International Airport
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