Jennifer Broome’s personal account of the Hurricane Katrina disaster

Since graduating in 1994 from the USC Honors College with a journalism degree, Jennifer Broome has weathered a few storms— Bertha and Fran during her first weather job in Myrtle Beach and most recently, Hurricane Katrina, in her job as chief meteorologist for News 4 WOAI in San Antonio, Texas.

The following narrative, combined with the video clips on the WOAI Web site, provides a strong sense of what she experienced from her vantage point in Metairie, La.

Read Jennifer's bio>>

What was it like? Were you scared? Did you see looters? Did you see bodies floating in the water? How did you survive? Was it really as bad as the pictures and video are showing?

These were all questions I was bombarded with after returning home Thursday afternoon, along with comments like we were worried about you and we’re glad you and the entire crew are okay.

I’ve gone to hell and back. I’m sure you can imagine that emotionally I’m changed forever. I’ve seen things that still seem unbelievable. The devastation is worse than what you see on TV. What you can’t see is the stench in the air or feel the fear, exhaustion, and hopelessness of the victims and volunteers. Part of my healing process of going through this catastrophic event is sharing my personal recount.

I was closely tracking Hurricane Katrina last weekend. At 1:30 pm Sunday, the call came. I’m going to Louisiana. My first reaction was it's too late - we have no shelter to ride out what will likely be a category 4 to category 5 hurricane hitting the Gulf Coast within the next 17-20 hours. I spend the next few hours gathering supplies and packing gear to last for 3-4 days, possibly 5 days. Baby wipes, bottled water, Power Bars, peanut butter, bread, tuna, boots, rain pants, and a rain jacket are all part of my gear. By 6 pm, my photographer Victor and I head east on I-10, following the crew of Natalia, Josh, and Richard, who are several hours ahead of us.

In those next 9 hours, Victor and I talked about what we were getting into. He has lots of questions about what to expect from a category 4 or 5 storm. We know we won’t be the same people when we return home. We decide there is a reason we’re teamed up to cover Katrina, realizing we’re about to learn a lot about ourselves and our entire crew. We try to distract ourselves by talking about his twins, work and just about any other subject beside hurricanes.

From Houston to Baton Rouge, we’re in awe of the bumper-to-bumper traffic heading west. Reality of the magnitude of the storm sets in. This is my fourth hurricane. I am extremely nervous knowing this is the big one. I may never witness weather like this again in my lifetime.

We’re heading to Metairie, just west of New Orleans, to be on the west side of the storm, which is the weaker side. But as we pass Gonzales, LA the rain and wind start in spurts. Both of us get quiet as we drive across a bridge over marshland with the wind howling.

It’s starting.

We arrive at the Best Western Landmark around 3 am Monday. Metairie is between Lake Pontchartrain and the Mississippi River. The locals tell me we’re about 10 to 15 miles northwest of downtown New Orleans. Immediately, we begin setting up gear and checking into rooms. When I walk into my room, there’s a letter from the hotel on the floor. It says the parish (counties are called parishes in Louisiana) is shutting off water by 6 am and to fill up the bathtub with water. I didn’t have time to do that because the weather was getting worse and I needed to do my job of covering the hurricane. The hotel staff is in final preparations of shutdown so they can ride out the storm with their families in the hotel.

We’re also surrounded by Jefferson Parish Sheriff Deputies. That gives me a little comfort that the Sheriff’s Department is staying where we are, but not much.

It’s getting worse and by 4 am the water is starting to quickly come into the parking garage area in front of the hotel lobby.

By 4:30 am, the winds are picking up and we’re already standing in a foot of water. When Victor and I walk out from under the parking garage, we’re already into tropical storm force winds, probably around 50 to 60 miles per hour. Power is shut off at some point and the hotel generators turn on. It’s surreal. The streets are starting to turn into rivers and the water keeps coming.

By 5 am, the winds are hurricane strength, with gusts easily over 100 mph. We’re frantically shooting as much as we can to feed back to the station by satellite, realizing we don’t have much time before the winds are too strong and the water too high for us to be able to continue sending a satellite feed.

By 5:30 am, the water has risen from knee height up to my waist in the street. Sustained winds are running over 100mph with gusts much higher. More and more of the Sheriff Deputies are beginning to come out to stand on the steps, watching the water rise. They are going on duty at 6am. Many haven’t slept at all because they are worried about their own families and homes.

By 6 am, the water is getting higher in the parking garage and we’re forced to move the satellite truck. The deputies start tearing down a guardrail on the hotel platform stairs and help Richard back the truck up all the way to the hotel front door. We have a generator in the truck. This becomes vital as deputies are able to charge their phones in our truck. Their vehicles are parked throughout the hotel parking garage and in garage across the street.

Victor and Josh continue shooting video. Natalia and I can only do phone interviews for the 6am newscast. The weather is bad but it’s only going to get worse. We’re taking a beating and it’s exhausting.

By 7am, Natalia is so tired she heads up to her room to try to sleep for a few hours. I go to my room somewhere between 7am and 8 am and notice the floor is wet from the bed to the window. Water is running down the wall. I move my stuff to the sink counter and on top of the toilet then head back downstairs. Richard is busy making sure the equipment in the truck stays dry. Victor and Josh are busy capturing the water rushing down the streets, the rain coming down in sheets, and the debris flying through air. A dead raccoon floats by right next to Victor. A snake floats by. Victor tries to tell me it’s a stick but I’m still convinced it was a snake.

The weather continues to deteriorate over the next few hours. I spend most of my time in the truck monitoring the radar (we were still getting wireless internet service off and of until early afternoon) and keeping our crew and the deputies informed.

Windows begin shattering between 9 and 10 am. Richard, Josh, Victor and I are busy, but try to keep a sense of humor in order to deal with the beginning of the worst of the weather. Glass is falling into the lobby. The man in the room next to mine suddenly shows up at our truck. He tells me the window in his room shattered. Ironically the elevators are still working but we taking the stairs. On the fourth floor, doors are rattling. I get to mine, Room 429. The wall of my room faces the elevators and it looks like its breathing. I carefully enter my room and throw my stuff into the bathtub. At this point the windows in my room are still intact but I’m afraid they could blow at any minute.

I’m able to do a phone interview with Leslie for the Living Show at 10 am. After this I begin to loose track of time. I hear the concern in Leslie’s voice. I tell her I’m scared. We all are. I’m able to get one last text message out to say it’s bad and I’m scared before loosing my cell service. We’re able to get sporadic Nextel service and internet for the next few hours despite the winds increasing to near 120 mph with wind gusts over 140 mph. We’re about 45-50 miles from Buras, where Katrina made landfall.

Several deputies tell me they’re worried the building won’t hold. I go back up to the fourth floor to check on my room. People are panicking in the hallway. The rattling of doors is deafening. The wall of my room is moving back and forth violently. A hotel employee tells me he’s afraid it’s going to blow. One wall on the 6th floor has already blown out. Standing at the door of my room, the water is seeping out into the hallway. The pressure is so great that I can’t even open the door. The window has blown out.

With the glass of the lobby atrium shattering, I run down the hallway, praying that this is not the end. I have never been as terrified as I was in that moment. I walk through darkness. With my flashlight I see people huddled together in hallways, many saying prayers. When I get back to the truck Victor asked if I’m okay. I can only answer no. I get in the truck with Richard and try to fight back the tears. Calmly he tells we’re going to be okay. We both know that may not be the case.

I try to stay busy for the next few hours by watching the radar and relaying information to the deputies. They are worried about family, friends and their homes. More and more of the deputies are standing on the steps of the hotel. Our only connections to the outside world become their scanner information and our sporadic internet connection. Cell service is becoming more and more unreliable.

I’m talking to the Deputy Chief when he hears the news over a police walkie talkie. Where his daughter and her fiancée live south of New Orleans is completely underwater. The last he heard they were not leaving. Tears stream down his face. All I can do is hug him. A deputy falls on the stairs and cuts his head open. The bleeding won’t stop and he really needs to get to a hospital. That won’t happen for hours.

Between 9 am and about 1pm the winds become our biggest problem. The flooding increases slightly but seems to be leveling off. The winds are relentless for hours. Deputies are telling us it’s not only going to be days before we can get out but that it may be a week because of the flooding.

By 2 pm, we’re finally beginning to get some improvements with the weather. Natalia comes back stairs. Somehow she was able to sleep through the worst of the weather. I consider her lucky. Her room received no damage, not even water seeping through the windowsill. Reminds me of a tornado and how it can demolition a house, yet pick up a carton of eggs and drop it without a single egg broken. Richard, Victor, Josh, and I are emotionally and physically tapped out.

As the storm moves away from us, the deputies are getting restless. They know looting is beginning but there’s nothing they can do since we’re surrounded by water. When the winds and rain subside, a deputy named Dave decides to walk through waist deep water to survey damage around the hotel. Victor, Richard, Natalia and I join him. Josh is editing a story in the truck. Unfortunately we won’t be able to move the truck to feed the story back to the station. As we wade through the water, we’re able to get a bigger picture and seeing the extent of damage. We can also see that I-10 is passable. It’s less than a mile from the hotel, yet we can’t get to it in our vehicles because of the flooding. Dave is worried about his house and dog. They are 16 blocks from the hotel. Late afternoon Dave waded through the water to his home. Later he told me he had water up to the porch but the dog was fine. A hummer-like vehicle makes it to the hotel and takes the injured deputy to the hospital. We later hear he is okay.

The hotel staff begins assessing the damage and moving guests from rooms with blown out windows to other rooms. The one that I’m moved to has water damage in over half of it, but at least the bed is dry and glass isn’t everywhere. My new bathtub is full of water. In storm preparations, hotel staff filled the bathtubs with water in all vacant rooms. This will be my first hurricane to have to actually use the water stored in the bathtub.

We’re able to get phone interviews out for the 5 pm and 6 pm but our connection to the outside world is extremely limited. Our crew is crashing. Four of the five have been up over 35 hours straight. Exhaustion takes over. In the night, there’s a huge fire in the distance and a woman suffers a stroke in our hotel.

There’s no running water, so a shower is out of the question, even though we spent hours in knee to waist deep water that is contaminated with dead animals, sewage, debris and even toxic fluids. Baby wipes take the place of a shower. Bottle water is used to brush teeth. The water in the bathtub is used to flush the toilet. With no running water and much of the carpeting in the hotel wet, the stench begins. There’s no power, so there’s no air conditioning. It’s not a very restful night.

Tuesday morning, I get a glimmer of hope. The water has gone down on the back tires of the satellite truck. In less than 12 hours, it’s gone down eight inches. We may be able to get out in the afternoon. Our crew decides to gathering up our stuff in preparation to be able to leave in the afternoon. The sheriff deputies are mobilizing. They are commandeering trucks to transport deputies to a FEMA staging area. Thanks to the generator, hotel staff is able to serve breakfast, including sausage. Warm to hot food is a luxury at this point. Hotel staff, deputies, and hotel guests worked together to clean up the glass that litters the entire lobby floor. It may not seem like much, but in that moment it was a sign of hope.

An owner of a construction company shows up on a 4-wheeler with bottled water for the hotel. Marty offers to take Victor and me to see the damage throughout the city. Marty navigates sidewalks and parking lots, and through debris. The water is still about 3-4 feet deep. Some of the streets are still covered with 4-8 feet of water but others are dry. We get to a Toys R Us that is less than a mile from the hotel and see our first looters. Down the road, men have a children’s swimming pool filled with toys. We see smoke in the distance and decide to head for that. We make it to the convenient store that is on fire. The fire fighters try to siphon floodwater through the hoses to put out the fire. Across the intersection, looters are stealing food. We return to the Toys R Us. We drive closer to the front door and see the smashed window where looters go in. There’s a group of looters exiting with a crib filled everything from diapers to a Sponge Bob television. I’m struck by this scene. What the heck are they going to do with electronics when they may not have power for weeks or months? I can understand the looting of food, but stealing stuff like electronics is beyond me.

We decide to try to make it to Lake Pontchartrain, which I learn is less than 5 miles from our hotel. The town is either flooded, or where it’s dry, debris is everywhere. We pass buildings with walls literally ripped off or collapsed. Trucks are overturned. Everything is damaged. One hundred percent of Jefferson Parish is damaged or destroyed. In Lake Pontchartrain the water has receded so much that we’re able to stand on the levee. I’m struck by the lack of wind damage on the front line of buildings facing the lake. The wind damage starts on the second and third row of buildings. The water from the Gulf of Mexico went through a pass into Lake Pontchartrain. Wave action sent the water over the levee and into Metairie.

We venture further toward New Orleans. When we get to the 610/I-10 split, it’s an eerie sight. You can walk across I-10 because of the lack of traffic. Because of the 17th street canal levee break, boats are launching on I-10. Those in New Orleans that survived the hurricane were now being rescued because of massive flooding from this levee break.

The unimaginable was getting worse.

When we make it back to the hotel, with the water continuing to slowly go down, our crew decides to try to drive out, knowing if we can just make it about a mile we’ll be out of flood waters. We head to the FEMA/law enforcement staging area where most of the Jefferson Parish sheriff deputies went. It’s a Sam’s Club parking lot. The Texas Task Force One rescue team was also there. This team is highly skilled in water rescue. Not long after we arrive, I’m told by one of the deputies that they’ve heard one of their colleagues has been shot in the head. We were never able to confirm this but the thought disturbed our entire crew.

One of the toughest moments for me was when a deputy, about my age, came up and asked if he could borrow the Nextel phone that I had in my hand. He hadn’t spoken with his family since Friday. He dials a number then realizes his unit is driving away. He hands the phone back to me and runs to catch his crew. I cried as I realized the deputies are putting helping others above themselves. Their families are worried about them yet they are heading into a war zone to help others.

Not too long after that moment, another deputy walks up. I ask about his home and family. He said he was able to check on his home and that he had some water damage but that his partner lost everything. He told me a heartbreaking tale of his partner’s young son. The child had asked his dad to save a card. The father put it on the mantle so that if it flooded, surely it wouldn’t reach that high. Now that mantle is gone. Over and over Tuesday, I heard folks say we expected it to be bad, but not like this.

Communication to the outside world is still extremely limited. We send back what we could to the station. While we’re working, we noticed truck after truck towing boats driving on I-10 and heading to the launching site, just two miles east of the Sam’s Club. I’m told these are good Samaritans, private citizens taking their boats to help in the rescue effort. This continued for hours.

The Sam’s Club allowed our crew and other media to buy supplies. They also let us use the bathroom. The generators weren’t working properly so the lights were just a glow in the store. You had to use a flashlight to go to the bathroom. There’s no running water, so you can’t flush the toilet. Law enforcement had already cleaned them out of things like life vest, sleeping bags, and bottled water. We gather items like peanut butter crackers, drinks, and beef jerky. Most of Natalia’s and Victor’s clothes were soaked. Natalia was able to get some jeans and Victor a couple of shirts. Richard became very resourceful. We were all craving a hot meal. Richard decided to build a makeshift chafing dish so we could have Spaghetti O’s with meatballs. The rest of us are a little skeptic of his idea, but hope it works. Hot food really sounds good.

That night we’re busy working on our stories for the 10 pm newscast. Mine was a taste of what we had dealt with through the hurricane. We’re also setting up our campsite with pads that we had gotten at Sam’s. Richard is busy making his cooking station. I was amazed it actually worked! The Spaghetti O’s took over an hour to heat up but we all scarfed them down.

Around 9:30 pm, we noticed FEMA and the law enforcement began packing up. An official called everyone over and told us and other media that we had to evacuate. There was the possibility of an additional 9 feet of water spilling out of the 17th street canal and into New Orleans and Jefferson Parishes within the next 12 hours. Our crew decides to do our 10 pm live reports and then evacuate west. After surviving the hurricane, I had to go on TV and tell our families, friends and viewers that we were being evacuated for a second time. Natalia and I both fought back tears in our live reports. The thought of more destructive flooding was just too much.

We drive west to Baton Rouge and arrive about midnight. We all know there are no hotel rooms but we try a couple of hotels any way. By 1am we decide to drive to the largest shelter in Baton Rouge at the River Center in the Centraplex since that’s where we’re going to do our morning show live reports. We sleep in cars but none of use got very much. All night long, buses arrived at the shelter to drop off evacuees.

By 4 am, neither Richard, nor Victor, nor I could sleep. We decide to start getting ready for the morning show. Richard told us evacuees kept coming up to the truck, knocking and asking if he knows anything about their neighborhoods or family members. I walk into the shelter and can’t believe my eyes. Some were able to grab a blanket or sleeping bag before evacuating. Others were asleep on the floor with nothing but the clothes they had on. During the morning show, a Red Cross volunteer told me this shelter already had over 4,500 evacuees and would max out at 5,000 early Wednesday.

Immediately after the show, we decide we need to find a place to take showers. It’s now Wednesday and we haven’t had showers since Sunday. We try hotel, fitness clubs, and even YMCAs. Finally Richard finds something – Ed’s Motel. It’s a pay by the hour hotel but we’re desperate to shower so we decide to go.

Our next issue is where we are going to stay that night. As we prep for the Living Show live report, we get word that my dad has emailed my new director with a place to stay. It’s the son of a friend and co-worker of my mom. Later I get a voicemail message about Scott and Carrie being willing to open up their home to us. This is a huge relief to all of us. I wasn’t able to get through to Scott until late afternoon. I think he was a little overwhelmed it was a crew of 5 people but nonetheless said, “You have a place to stay. It’s small but you’re more than welcome.”

We’re able to focus on our stories for 5pm and 6pm on the evacuees in the shelter. We’re also being to hear about the violence happening in New Orleans. All of us are relieved to have moved west to Baton Rouge. It’s chaotic at the shelter but there is no violence.

I met a Louisiana State University (LSU) student from San Antonio. Lauren Cook is flying home Wednesday evening. She and her roommate volunteered at the FEMA site on LSU’s campus. Her roommate’s family lost everything. They are now living in their on campus apartment. Lauren tells me in an apartment near her's there are about 25 people. As she tells her story, we both tear up. She saw some of the critically injured or ill as they arrived in the FEMA site.

We’re surrounded by such desperation. In between our 5pm and 6pm live reports, a group of boys start playing football in the park across the street from the shelter. Finally, a scene of normalcy, which is the first for me since Sunday.

That evening we head over to LSU. Victor, Richard and I happen upon an animal shelter. LSU Vet School students and local Vets are taking care of pets that arrived with evacuees. Animals aren’t allowed in the shelters. There was a Chihuahua that his elderly owner had sent along applesauce for an evening treat and a bible to protect him.

When we meet back up with Natalia and Josh, we hear their tale of trying to get into the FEMA site in the arena. They were kicked out. As they were walking away, patients were being wheeled out on stretchers and in wheelchairs. Even though they couldn’t get into the building, they were able to get the story of what was going on inside.

Natalia and I walked into the Journalism School to use the restroom and realize one of the New Orleans television stations is working out of the school. All of the New Orleans stations evacuated. There’s nothing left of any of the TV stations.

Our crew makes it to Scott and Carrie’s close to 11 pm. They had fixed dinner for us and welcomed us with open arms. They didn’t know any of us but that didn’t matter. We were in need of a place to stay and they were willing to open up their home. We finally had a little time to relax. Victor hooked up one of the cameras to the TV and we watched some of the video from the height of the hurricane. All of us were stunned to have lived through it.

We realize we need sleep. I’m on a futon. Natalia is on a couch in Scott’s office, and the guys are on the floor. By 1am it’s lights out.

Richard, Josh and I get up at 4 am to head back over to the LSU campus for the morning show. We’re hearing the violence and conditions are getting worse in New Orleans. We’re thankful to be in a safer place. After the show, Josh and I begin our trip back to San Antonio. Natalia, Victor and Richard stay one more day.

As we drive west on a bridge over marshland, I think about how I’ve changed in just a matter of a few days and how lucky I am to have my family safe and a home to go to.

Josh and I stop at a Waffle House in Lafayette, LA to have breakfast. Our waitress tells us the Waffle House Corporation has already moved employees from Metairie to there. For me this is a sign of hope that at least some Hurricane Katrina victims are already rebuilding their lives.

It takes us seven hours to get home but they go by quick. When we walk into the station, we’re greeted with hugs from co-workers. So many people were worried about us and with good reason; we had been to hell and back. Josh and I sit down to give an interview of our lasting impressions from the ordeal that we had just gone through. After witnessing countless number of people that came up to him asking to please put a picture of their loved one on TV, Josh made the comment of what does it take to force someone to leave a family member behind. It’s a choice no one should have to make.

I spent Thursday afternoon, going to the doctor to get checked out and getting a tetanus shot. I’m now on a series of probiotic supplements and immune system support supplements for the next 7 to 14 days because of the bacteria and viruses we were exposed to.

During and immediately after the hurricane we were isolated to coverage of other areas. Now being able to watch some of the coverage on TV, I’m overwhelmed by the suffering and devastation and still fighting back the tears at times. We only witnessed a small area of destruction. The devastation is for hundreds of miles. What did I learn? Tell your family and loved ones how much you care. Never take for granted what you have; it can be gone in an instant.