We were there until 9 at night. Then I walked home, but I couldn’t sleep. So I got up at 3:30 in the morning and walked back down there. As you can imagine, there was serious security: police, firemen, soldiers. But it was very clear to me this needed to be documented. I knew I had to do whatever I had to do to get back down there. I found a way to sneak in by cutting through a fence, and it allowed me to spend the morning of September 12 there. I eventually got removed by the police. They were really angry—the police, the firemen, everyone down there; emotions were running very high. One fireman threatened to beat my brains in with a shovel. I understood their position completely. From their point of view, we were there as tourists or spectators, when really we were there to record history, to create a record of this evil deed. The records of photography and magazines and radio and television are how we’re informed and how we know what’s going on in the world. This was something that absolutely had to be documented, and that’s what I do.