'She was taken from me in an instant': 25 years after losing her mother in the Oklahoma City bombing, Tulsan to honor her, help read victim names, for anniversary observance

But when invariably her daughter starts missing her, that’s not where she’s drawn.

“I probably go to the (Oklahoma City National Memorial) on average about 20 times a year,” Tulsa resident Dawn DeArmon said.

“I just feel closer to her there,” she said, adding that by contrast, she visits the cemetery only a couple of times annually.

When at the memorial — which honors the 168 people killed in the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building on April 19, 1995 — DeArmon’s destination is the Field of Empty Chairs, where rows of handcrafted chairs are set up in memory of each victim.

Her practice is to sit on the ground behind Leinen’s chair, with her back against it, facing away.

“Sometimes people think I’m a little crazy when they find this woman just sitting there,” she said, laughing.

Before she departs, she’ll share the latest photos of her granddaughters with her mother and maybe read her a couple of notes from them.

And she’ll talk to her, too.

“I tell her about the stresses in my life, ask her for advice,” she said.

On Sunday, DeArmon’s late mother will again be on her mind, as she and other victims’ family members commemorate the 25th anniversary of the bombing.

Because of the COVID-19 shutdown, memorial officials scaled back plans to observe the anniversary, and will offer a pre-recorded event for television, airing from 9 to 10 a.m. on most major stations in Oklahoma City and Tulsa.

Included will be two annual rituals from every April 19 — 168 seconds of silence and the reading of the 168 victims’ names.

DeArmon has been a regular attendee at the annual Remembrance Ceremony, and this year, for the first time, is participating in the reading of the names.

She recorded her part in advance, reading aloud several of the victims’ names before concluding with her mother’s.

Like it has for other survivors of the victims, the annual ceremony has become a can’t-miss tradition for DeArmon and her family.

It started with the first one 20 years ago, DeArmon attending with her grandparents (Leinen’s parents) and her brother.

Every year since, family members have returned together, bringing flowers and other items to decorate Leinen’s chair.

Gone in an instant

There’s a good reason why the Field of Chairs is located on the site of the former Murrah Building.

That’s where most of the victims that the chairs commemorate were pulled from the rubble after the bombing.

DeArmon, 26 at the time, remembers that morning, Wednesday, April 19, 1995, all too well.

She was at the Tulsa bank where she worked as a teller when the first reports began coming in from Oklahoma City.

Just minutes after the bombing, it wasn’t at first clear what had caused the reported explosion. But when she heard the words “Murrah Building,” she went into “panic mode,” DeArmon recalled.

Her mother’s office, the Federal Employees Credit Union, was on the third floor of that building.

DeArmon immediately tried to call, but got no answer.

Just minutes later she would understand why — as soon as she saw that first shocking image on television.

An overhead view of the building, it showed that the explosion had ripped through the very area where the credit union had been.

“I fell to my knees in front of the TV,” she said.

It would be days before DeArmon and her family, who all gathered in Oklahoma City, learned Leinen’s fate for sure.

As the search for bodies continued daily with no news, she held onto hope, she said, despite knowing better “logically.”

“I kept thinking that she might’ve been trapped in some pocket in the rubble,” she said.

Finally, on May 4 — 15 days after the bombing — the 47-year-old Leinen was found. Hers was one of the last bodies to be recovered.

As DeArmon grieved with her family, she still couldn’t fathom how someone could commit such an act. And she set her sights on seeing justice done.

By then, much was known about the perpetrators.

DeArmon later attended the trials of both the bomber Timothy McVeigh and his accomplice Terry Nichols. She also spoke at the sentencing hearing of Michael Fortier, who was convicted for failing to warn authorities about the plan.

When McVeigh was executed, DeArmon joined others in Oklahoma City for a live stream of it.

However, while the experience provided some closure, she said, an empty space remained inside her.

It’s still there today.

“I had 26 years with my mom,” DeArmon said. “I wasn’t one of the lucky ones. I didn’t get to keep my mom until I was over 60.

“She was taken from me in an instant. She was just gone.”

Nightmares

Although the guilty were caught in the case, DeArmon wasn’t done.

“I’m one of those people who just has to know,” she said. “I have to understand things.”

Pushing further than many families would find comfortable — even some of her own relatives — DeArmon sought out details about her mother’s death.

From the autopsy report, she learned that Leinen had likely died instantly. That was some relief, she said, because for many victims that had not been the case.

But the report alone wasn’t enough for DeArmon. She knew there was something she had to see with her own eyes.

Only the autopsy photos, she said, would allow her to put a big lingering question to rest.

“I had nightmares that my mother asked me why I’d stopped looking for her,” she said, adding that she wanted to be certain it was Leinen they had buried.

The photos confirmed it.

“That ended my nightmares,” DeArmon said. “I never had them again.”

And having served their purpose, she put the images out of her mind.

Today when DeArmon pictures her mother, she prefers to see a woman who more than anything loved family.

“That’s how I’m most like her,” she said.

Primarily because of Leinen, DeArmon grew up in a family that was extremely tight knit, she said.

“When mom died my grandfather said she was the rock of the family. She was the one who held us all together.”

DeArmon laughs when she thinks of the way she’s least like her mother.

“I am not crafty,” she said, adding that her mom loved sharing her gift for making things.

Among her many handiworks, she said, Leinen sewed vestments for the priests at church and crocheted big blankets for the family.

Letter to a killer

Shortly before McVeigh’s death by lethal injection in 2001, DeArmon made a decision.

She wanted to speak to the man who had killed her mother.

But advised that McVeigh would never consent to a meeting, she settled for writing him.

She was able to confirm later that her letter was delivered to him just hours before his execution.

It elicited no response, if, in fact, McVeigh even read it. But DeArmon still hopes at least some of her words were seen and registered.

“I told him basically that I didn’t understand how he thought this was going to accomplish anything … killing people to make a point,” she said. “It didn’t do what he wanted it to do. It was a waste.”

“Hundreds of people lost people that they loved, or who were permanently injured or damaged,” she added. “Flat out it was murder. … He killed men, women. He killed babies. That was really uncalled for.”

Not only did the bombing fail to achieve McVeigh’s anti-government aims, she added, it served to unite rather than divide.

“We learned that Oklahoma can come together,” she said. “People were very generous and supportive.”

Today, if she could write the world a letter, DeArmon would definitely have a few things to say.

She’s more opinionated now, which — along with being a stronger person in general — is one way the experience changed her, she said.

Of the messages she would like to convey, one, she said, is that “hate doesn’t get you anywhere.”

“We’re not all going to agree. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t live together, that we still can’t respect somebody’s point of view. I mean, we’re different. And God made each and every one of us different.”

The most important lesson DeArmon has learned?

“Life is too short. We’re not guaranteed tomorrow. So, just be kind to people and try to understand what others are going through.”

As for DeArmon and her family, they will continue to gather every April 19 for the Remembrance Ceremony.

And when they aren’t honoring Leinen’s life publicly, they will keep her memory alive at home.

DeArmon now has two granddaughters of her own, and they know all about their late “Grandma Kay,” as they call Leinen.

They, too, are preparing to carry on the tradition one day at the annual ceremony.

“Madison, the oldest, has said that when she’s old enough she wants to read the names,” DeArmon said.

“She wants to be able to read Grandma Kay’s.”

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Gallery: Never forget April 19, 1995: Photos show the mission of Oklahoma City National Memorial