Nightmare in Tornado Alley | Storm Watch | 1

0:00Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of Against the Odds ad-free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. A listener note. Against the Odds uses dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, may be invented, but everything is based on research.

0:25Val Castor squints through the windshield as a thin gray funnel drops from the sky and plants itself firmly on the ground. Out in the open farmland ahead, the vortex tightens, then widens, and within seconds becomes a thick, violent tornado, rotating with terrifying speed. It's 2.56 p.m. on May 20th, 2013. Val and his wife Amy are sitting in their pickup truck, parked a quarter mile south of the storm, about 20 miles southwest of Oklahoma City. They're professional storm chasers for KWTV Channel 9 News. Val drives and reports on air, while Amy shoots video. Val raises his phone, already live with meteorologist Gary England back at the station.

1:16Gary, it's a stovepipe all the way down, about 200 yards wide, moving east-northeast. It's a quarter mile wide and getting stronger by the second. Val and Amy provide what meteorologists call ground truth, because technology can only go so far. Radar can detect rotation high in the clouds, but not whether a tornado has actually touched down. That's what storm trackers are for. They are the eyes and ears in the field. He and Amy have been married 14 years and have been chasing storms together even longer. They have six kids and a well-rehearsed network of babysitters who know that when the sky turns like this, it's time to rush to the caster's house.

2:03This spring had been unusually quiet until a few days ago. Now, central Oklahoma is in the midst of a severe weather outbreak. Just yesterday, they chased a tornado that ripped through a mobile home park east of the city, flipping tractor trailers into the air. And now this. Val watches as the funnel rips across green fields in the distance, tearing up everything in its path. Earth, soil, wood, debris. Blue and green flashes light up its base as it chews through electrical lines. It's expanding fast as it moves past Newcastle. His chest tightens as he reports what he sees. Gary, this thing is growing fast, in both size and intensity.

2:52I see trees in the air, whole trees. This is not good. The words just hang there. He knows what comes next. Unless it somehow stops, this tornado is moving straight east, towards southwest Oklahoma City and the suburb of Moore. A chill of recognition runs through him. I've been here before, Gary. This is May 3rd, 1999, all over again. Almost the same path. He can hardly believe it. 14 years ago, one of the most powerful tornadoes ever recorded tore through this exact stretch of land. It was an EF-5, the most extreme rating, with winds over 300 miles per hour. It killed dozens of people and destroyed whole neighborhoods.

3:42He and Amy had chased that storm too, back when chasing was more of an adrenaline thrill-seeking thing. But after that day, they realized what they were doing mattered, that warning people could save lives. He thought May 99 was a once-in-a-lifetime event, but now, watching this tornado grow into a massive black wedge nearly half a mile wide, he's not so sure. It's moving off farmland and toward the interstate, toward the city limits. He can feel his anxiety surge as he speaks into the phone. Oh God, Gary! This thing is coming! A monster tornado, gaining strength with every second, is heading directly for more.

4:36I heard a rumour that the CIA poisoned my grandad. Gordon Banks, the world's number one goalkeeper. It happened in Mexico, supposedly, at the World Cup in 1970. Sounds crazy? I'm an investigative journalist on the hunt for evidence. We needed to do some extraordinary things to counter the Soviets. This is Foul Play, an unbelievable tale of sports, spies and family secrets. Listen now wherever you get your podcasts or early and ad-free on Audible.

5:12I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. The Great Plains are known as Tornado Alley, the part of the country where tornadoes strike most often. Here, the atmosphere lines up just right. Warm, moist air drifts north from the Gulf of Mexico. Hot, dry air pushes in from the southwest. And cold air sweeps down from Canada. When those forces collide, storms explode. Just 11 miles south of Oklahoma City sits the town of Moore, a suburb of about 56 ,000 people, right in the heart of Tornado Alley. Over time, it's earned a reputation for being the tornado capital of the U.S., nature's bullseye.

6:02Anyone who's lived there for a while remembers one date in particular, May 3, 1999. That was the day Moore took a direct hit from one of the strongest tornadoes ever recorded, a mile-wide EF5, packing winds over 321 miles per hour. It tore through the town, killing 36 people, injuring many others, and causing over a billion dollars in damage. The destruction was catastrophic. Then, four years later, as the community was still recovering, more was hit again by an EF-4. Then again in 2010, another EF-4. By that point, people were asking, why more? Meteorologists will tell you that being struck like that again and again is rare.

6:56But on May 20th, 2013, it would happen again. This time, another EF-5, following an eerily similar path. This is Episode 1, Stormwatch.

7:21Gary England sits at his home computer, studying the morning's weather data. It's 5 a.m. on Monday, May 20, 2013. His wife, Mary, is still in bed, but he's wide awake, even though he didn't get much sleep. Last night, he was on air until nearly midnight, tracking a major tornado east of the city. Several mobile homes were destroyed. He couldn't stop worrying, kept up by the same questions that follow every storm. How many people died? Was there anything more he could have done? For days, central Oklahoma has been caught in a severe weather outbreak. The pattern revealed itself last week, and forecasters have been working overtime ever since, tracking storms and warning the public.

8:11Gary is Tornado Alley's most famous meteorologist. At 73, he's been chief meteorologist at KWTV News 9 for over four decades. Around here, he's more than a weatherman. He's who people turn to when the sky turns dark. His face appears on billboards that read, Oklahoma's number one meteorologist. He played himself in the film Twister, and a local blog voted him the most influential person in the state. Jesus came in second. It made him laugh, but the responsibility is real. Today looks like it might be even more volatile than yesterday. Forecast maps suggest the worst of the weather will stay south of Oklahoma City, out over open farmland, the best-case scenario.

9:01But as Gary studies the live radar, he sees something else. A line of moisture sitting directly over the city. A hint that trouble could be brewing closer to home. There's only one way to know for sure. Gary stands up, walks to the front door, and opens it. A blast of warm air hits him, so salty, moist, and heavy that his heart starts to pound. The last time the air felt like this was May 3rd, 1999, the day an EF-5 tornado tore through southwest Oklahoma City and more and changed everything. For hours, Gary narrated the destruction live on television. Homes ripped apart, cars lifted into the sky, spinning like toys.

9:53In his calmest, most direct voice, he told viewers the truth. If you're not underground, you're not going to survive this. But many didn't listen. It became the deadliest tornado disaster Oklahoma had seen in decades. Afterward, survivors painted messages on the ruins of their homes. God bless Gary, England. Thanks for getting us out alive. He appreciated it, but the loss of life haunted him. Ever since, he's felt relentless pressure to get everything right. On air, he's steady and reassuring. But privately, he obsesses over every word, every gesture. Because if he gets it wrong, people could die.

10:42Gary sits back down and starts typing an email to his staff. Priority one, all hands on deck. On days like this, he thinks like a battlefield commander. He deploys his team, Jim Gardner's helicopter in the air, and his ground crew, Val and Amy Castor, broadcasting live from the field. It's always a gamble where to send them, but today, he keeps them close, just west of the city. A tornado is bad anywhere, but when one takes aim at a city, it becomes a nightmare. He hopes his gut is wrong, but it rarely is.

11:26Amy Simpson opens her eyes in bed, curled up beside her husband, Lindy. It's 6 a.m. and still dark outside. For a moment, she considers rolling over and going back to sleep. But she can't. Responsibility is already calling. Lindy, a firefighter, has the day off, but their kids, 7-year-old Scarlett and 12-year-old Rourke, need to be up, fed, and out the door. And Amy has to be at school early. She exhales, pushes back the covers, and swings her legs out of bed. You're getting up already? Yeah, I've got a big day. At 42, she's finishing her third year as principal of Plaza Towers Elementary, just a mile from home.

12:15It's the last week of school before summer break, which is always hectic, but also fun. This morning, she'll oversee the year-end awards ceremonies for the first and second graders. There's nothing she loves more than watching her students light up and stand a little taller as their names are called. At Plaza Towers, moments like that matter. The school has been through some difficult years. Built in 1966, it was once one of the top elementary schools in town. But over time, demographics shifted. Redistricting sent many of the neighborhood's more affluent families to a newer school a couple miles south.

12:56The transition hasn't been easy, but Amy is proud of Plaza Towers, of its resilience, its close-knit culture. She glances at her phone. More severe weather predicted. Hail, high winds, and thunderstorms later this afternoon, with a strong possibility of tornadoes. She barely reacts. Sounds like a typical spring day in Oklahoma. Growing up here, storms are just a part of life. Every May, the sky threatens. There have been close calls. Storms that almost hit her house. But she's never considered leaving. Not once. In Moore, you don't run from the weather. You live with it. People here pride themselves on being weather aware.

13:44You pay attention. You stay alert. You can't get worked up over every bad forecast. Because even in a town that's seen more than its share of tornadoes, they're still pretty rare. Amy brushes her straight blonde hair, pulls on a dress, and slips into a pair of open-toed sandals with small heels. Students and teachers will be expecting her soon. Schools in Oklahoma don't cancel for storms. If they did, there wouldn't be much school at all.

14:20Rick Smith sits at his desk in the command center at the National Weather Service, studying the latest forecast. It's 7 a.m., and the sun is rising. He left work just before midnight, And now, seven hours later, he's back, bracing himself for another treacherous day. Rick has worked at the Weather Service for 20 years. He's 49 now, with silver hair and a calm, steady presence. The command center is located on the second floor of the National Weather Center on the University of Oklahoma campus, about 15 miles south of Oklahoma City. From here, Rick and his colleagues track storms across the country.

15:03But today, all eyes are on their own backyard. More than 40 screens glow. Radar loops, satellite images, atmospheric sensors. With every update, the picture sharpens. Something bad is coming. Maybe even worse than yesterday. Around him, the room stays calm. No raised voices, no panic, just quiet focus. Working here is like being on a flight deck. Everyone is trained to stay composed, no matter what's coming. Rick's title is warning coordination meteorologist. His job is to tell people what's coming, how bad it could be, where it might hit, and when. And to say it early enough that people can act.

15:50But he has to be right, because every time the sirens go off and nothing happens, people trust the weather service a little less. And complacency can be deadly. Rick stands and heads into a briefing with his boss, David Andra, the head meteorologist on duty, and another colleague. David looks around the room and poses just one question. Is there anything in the data that suggests violent tornadoes won't develop today? No, no. There isn't any hesitation. Everything is lining up for a horrific storm. Outside the center, a massive white radar dome rises above the trees, like a giant golf ball perched on a tee.

16:38Doppler radar allows meteorologists to see inside storms, tracking rainfall, rotation, and movement. Yesterday, it gave people about 15 minutes warning. Not much. But sometimes it's everything. Yet, even with all this technology, there are still mysteries. They can't say exactly where a tornado will form, or which storms will evolve into rotating supercells, the kind that can spawn tornadoes. And even then, only a fraction of supercells actually produce a tornado. But when they do, they move fast. Just yesterday, a storm went from a small blip on the radar to a deadly EF4 in under an hour, with speeds nearing 160 miles per hour.

17:28Meteorologists can't measure those winds directly. Instead, they survey the damage left behind, using the enhanced Fujita scale. EF1 means broken windows. EF2 means trees stripped bare. EF5, the most extreme, means entire buildings gone. Less than 1 % of tornadoes ever reach that level. Back at his desk, Rick knows he has to strike a balance in his wording. He doesn't want to scare people, but he needs them to take this seriously. Because even if he can't say for certain that a tornado will touch down today, People need to act like it will. He leans in, starts typing, and sends out a warning to anyone who might see it.

18:19Get ready.

18:23Jennifer Doan drives through a quiet neighborhood and more, and pulls into the parking lot of Plaza Towers Elementary. It's 8.30 a.m. The school, a low, red brick building, sits calm beneath a brightening sky. But from the moment she woke up today, she's felt anything but calm. A strand of her long brown hair falls forward as she leans over the wheel, scanning the sky. Yesterday, a tornado touched down near her home in Edmond, just north of Oklahoma City. It mostly tore through open fields, but it was enough to rattle her. And today, more storms are expected. She's already thinking about the drive home, about getting caught in the downpour.

19:12Jennifer is 30 and has two young daughters. And she's pregnant again, something she only found out a few weeks ago. Before she left the house, she kissed her fiancé Niall goodbye and said she had a bad feeling about the day. He told her to stay home, but she can't. It's the last week of school. There's too much to do. Jennifer parks, gathers her things and readies herself to greet her third graders. Inside, the day begins like any other. Most of the school's 500 students gather in the cafeteria for the daily rise and shine assembly. Announcements, then the school creed. Jennifer smiles as the students recite in unison.

19:58I am a capable and dependable student, full of possibilities and potential. This is her second year teaching at Plaza Towers, and she still loves this part of the day. Afterward, Jennifer leads her class to the back building, an addition built in 2006, where the second and third grade classrooms are. The kids are laughing and buzzing with energy. Summer is just days away. They settle in with music playing softly as they draw pictures about the school year and their plans for the break. Jennifer watches them, smiling. She loves this class. They're kind to each other. They lift each other up. In her five years of teaching, she's never had a group like this.

20:45She glances out the window. The sun is breaking through the clouds. For a moment, it looks like a perfect day. Maybe the storms will hold off. Maybe it won't be that bad.

21:02Shayla Taylor walks through the sliding doors of Moore Medical Center, her hand on her belly. Bad weather is the last thing on her mind. Today, she's having a baby. She's 25, calm and focused, with long black braids tied back. She's here to be induced, to give birth to her second son later this afternoon. There's a severe weather watch in effect. Everyone in town has been talking about it for days. But Shayla isn't worried. She grew up here. Storms are part of her life. If people freaked out every time a tornado might hit, she figures they'd spend all of May in a constant state of panic. Her husband, Jerome, is beside her, holding her bag.

21:49You okay? I'm good. Her mom plans to come later with their four-year-old son so he can meet the baby. A nurse checks her in and leads them down the hallway. We'll get you settled in here. Shayla nods, easing herself onto the bed. She's ready. But then a doctor comes in and delivers unexpected news. We're thinking about sending you home and rescheduling. The weather could get bad. Shayla just looks at the doctor. She's 40 weeks and then some, and her body has already made the decision. The contractions have started, mild but unmistakable. I'm not going anywhere. This baby is coming, storm or no storm.

22:39Shayla isn't leaving.

22:54Rick Smith examines the latest data rolling in from his desk at the National Weather Service. It's 11 a.m. The risk area has narrowed to a broad bullseye stretching across south-central Oklahoma. As Rick and his colleagues refine the forecast, the timing sharpens. Storms are expected to develop early this afternoon, as early as 1 p.m., which is unusual for tornadoes. Most don't form until late afternoon or evening. Rick glances over at his boss, David Andra. David is known for being almost impossible to rattle. But Rick notices something subtle, a flicker of unease. He considers David his barometer.

23:40If he's nervous, I'm nervous. Rick starts typing an email to more than 380 officials across the region. Government agencies, hospitals, emergency managers, flagging the critical timing. Unlike yesterday, today is a school day. And if storms start forming as early as expected, students could be getting out during that peak window. He writes,

24:13A few minutes later, he records a video briefing. Attention school systems, parents, and students. Dangerous storms may impact you at dismissal time. Plan ahead. He uploads it to YouTube, then posts the link to Facebook and Twitter, platforms he's started using in recent years because he knows not everyone watches TV. He's trying to reach as many people as possible. What worries him most are the ones who've heard warnings so often that they've stopped listening. Everyone says they're afraid of tornadoes, but many don't really believe it will happen to them.

25:00Principal Amy Simpson sits in her office near the front entrance of Plaza Towers Elementary, preparing to interview candidates for a teaching position in the fall. It's just after 1 p.m. Outside, the sky is shifting with sporadic rain showers. But inside, the day keeps moving forward. Amy glances down at her phone. It's an alert from the National Weather Service. A tornado watch has been issued for the Oklahoma City metro area, including more. Rapid storm development expected, it says. Tornado threat increasing through the afternoon. Amy reads it, then sets the phone down. She's been trying to treat this like any other storm day.

25:46The morning had felt normal. She gathered the students in the cafeteria for the daily Rise and Shine assembly. Then came the awards for the first and second graders. She cheered for them like they were her own. But now the tension is creeping in. Thunderstorms could hit as early as 3 p.m., but school doesn't let out until 4. Amy's phone buzzes again. It's an email from the district head office in response to the tornado watch. After-school activities are now canceled, but they're keeping the regular dismissal time. The superintendent signs off the email, keep calm and carry on. That's what she'll do.

26:31Amy takes a slow breath and leans back in her chair. Whatever happens, the school is as prepared as it can be. Like most older schools, and most homes and more, Plaza Towers doesn't have a storm shelter. Retrofitting older buildings with underground safe rooms is costly, even in a place this familiar with tornadoes. When warnings are issued, teachers and students move into the hallways, away from windows. It's not perfect, but it's the safest option they have. Under Amy's leadership, the school's 500 students and 50 staff run regular tornado drills. They just practiced a few weeks ago. Amy reminds herself, everyone knows what to do.

27:19The school's office assistant, Penny, pokes her head in. Your first applicant is here. Thanks, Penny. Go ahead and send her in. Okay. And Amy, you saw the tornado watch? I did. Let me know if anything changes. Anything at all. I will. This afternoon, Amy will be tied up with interviews, so she won't have time to monitor conditions herself. But she can rely on Penny, who tracks the weather so closely, the staff jokingly call her plaza's radar watcher. Amy trusts her. If something dangerous is coming, Penny will know.

28:01Gary England stands inside the horseshoe-shaped command desk in the KWTV studio, pivoting from screen to screen, tracking the storm as it evolves in real time. We can see a dry line here on radar, west of Oklahoma City. A tornado watch is in effect, areas south of the cold front to stay alert. It's just before 2 p.m., and he's already been live on air for nearly two hours. With his suit and yellow tie and thin blonde hair neatly in place, Gary hopes he looks composed and controlled, but feels like he's monitoring a ticking time bomb. The air over central Oklahoma is unstable, moving in all different directions.