After Enduring Horror Of Boston Marathon Explosions, Madison Family Left With Profound Admiration For Response

Mark and Kim Castaldo of Madison, CT, along with their son, Connor, 13, go the Boston Marathon every year to root for a family friend, marathon runner Dr. E. David Crawford, an internationally renowned prostate cancer expert who helped save the life of Kim's dad. Here is their story about what happened Monday, April 15, 2013.

While getting set up to watch the race, the Castaldo family had a great spot right by the finish line. Then Kim's sister, Kelly McMahon, suggested that they move. It was too crowded right by the finish line, Kelly said, and hard to display the signs that said "Go Go Dr. Crawford!"

So they walked down the street and around the corner, setting themselves up a block or two away from the finish line. The runners coming by that spot would have just conquered Heartbreak Hill, the last of four hills near the end of the 24.5 mile race. For runners who don't hit the wall and succumb to Heartbreak Hill, the race is mostly downhill and something of a celebration from there to the finish line.

With more than 20,000 runners in the race, and more than 500,000 people arrayed up and down the course as spectators, the race Monday was a joy to watch and a great way to celebrate a cool and sunny Patriot's Day, a day that commemorates the first battles of the Revolutionary War. 

As runners streamed by, the Castaldos heard shouting, cheering, cow bells ringing. People were giving each other hugs and high-fives as their runners came through, so close to the finish line. The runners just had to go past the spot where the Castaldos were standing, take a right, a quick left, and ... done. 

Around 2:50 p.m., the Castaldos heard an explosion. Mark Castaldo wondered if it was a celebratory cannon honoring Patriot's Day. Kim Castaldo wondered why the ground was shaking. 

Twelve seconds later, there was another explosion.

Mark and Kim looked at each other, confused. Suddenly, near silence replaced he sounds of cheering and cow bells. People looked around, confused.

Within three seconds, the Castaldos saw two police officers with a panicked look in their eyes run past them. Then, a line of police arrived as if out of nowhere and began pushing everyone back, away from the finish line. 

Within two minutes, ambulances, police cars, the FBI and other law enforcement vehicles went flying past on the street in front of them. 

Police officers approached them, yelling, "Get out!" "This is real!" "Go back to your houses! Go, get out!" "This is real!" 

This is what the Castaldos, and other spectators, did not yet know: At the finish line of the race, two improvised explosive devices packed with nails and pellets, similar to those commonly used in guerilla warfare on battlegrounds far from the United States, had exploded. Emergency responders, runners, and standers by were rushing towards the explosion to help three people who were dead or dying, including an 8-year-old boy, and more than 140 who were wounded, including some people who had their legs blown off.

But a horror of that magnitude on a sunny day in Boston was unthinkable, even to those standing a block or two away. Mark and Kim, along with the thousands of people around them slowly started making their way out of the area. Other than the sounds of the sirens, the police officers yelling, and an occasional scream, it was eerily silent. 

The Castaldos started making their way back to their car, which was parked about two miles away. When they walked up Mass Ave., they could see a sea of runners, stopped, standing, shivering in the cold air. Everyone looked bewildered. 

Mark and Kim called Kim's brother John, who works in California. They told him, "something bad has happened," and he turned on CNN. Nothing. No information. Not yet. 

Then, everyone's phones went dead, except for the ability to text. Law enforcement authorities said later this was intentional, since bombs can be detonated by cell phone calls. 

The Castaldos then got a text from their daughter Carolyn, who lives in Tampa, FL. She gave them the news about the bombs. The Castaldos texted back, and asked her to call their other family members to let them know they were safe. 

Connor, after reading his sister's text message, immediately began to text his friends. His first text messages went out to the teenagers in his religious education class.

His message to his classmates?

"Start praying. Something has happened at the marathon."  

The Castaldos walked down Mass Ave., struggling with feelings of helplessness. They saw one woman, a runner, trying desperately to get information about her son, who would have crossed the finish line right around the time of the explosions.

Amidst the scenes of confusion and heartbreak, the Castaldos were repeatedly reassured and struck by the quick response of law enforcement officers and emergency responders. They saw the area around the explosion quickly secured, then the remaining spectators and runners redirected back in the other direction. 

Within about 20 minutes, portable showers were set up. Mark Castaldo was told that was in case there was some sort of biochemical hazard from the explosions.

The Castaldos kept trying to get to their car, but often found their way blocked by the ongoing emergency operations and a rolling lockdown in the city. They walked by an army of police cars and police officers on the Boston Common, arrayed in gear that made it look like a war zone. They walked through Faneuil Hall to find everything closed, in complete lockdown in the middle of the day.

Three hours later, they got to their car, turned on the radio and realized the enormity of what had happened a block or two from where they were standing, holding their sign, cheering on the man who helped save Kim's dad's life. 

"It was bedlam, absolute bedlam," Mark Castaldo said Tuesday, as he and Kim and Connor sat in the kitchen of their home in North Madison. "We feel horrible. We will never, ever forget that." 

They are thankful for Kelly's suggestion that they move away from the finish line. "Otherwise we would have been at ground zero," Mark said. 

Kim is proud of how calm her son Connor was, and that his first reaction was to contact his friends and ask them to pray. 

Mark repeatedly said he was impressed and amazed by the response of police and other emergency responders. "We have to throw big kudos out to the police department. They handled this brilliantly. Flawlessly." 

And, they are left with bewilderment and grief for those who were wounded and killed. And, like many others, they are left wondering about those who crossed the finish line around the time of the explosion. 

They saw Dr. Crawford's daughter-in-law fly by, having conquered Heartbreak Hill, running towards the finish line, about five minutes before the explosion. They are waiting to hear that she is OK.