Starting over: House blaze derails family

"It doesn't feel real," he said that day in late April. Now, weeks after the fire, when even a late May rainstorm isn't enough to wash the smell of smoke off the house, the reality has become quite clear.

The windows have all been broken out, boarded up. Glass crunches on the way to the backyard where the children's toys lie strewn about on the ground. Welcome mats have been removed, replaced by yellow tape and a note from the city building official: "DO NOT ENTER UNSAFE TO OCCUPY."

And on the platform of Salt Lake City's Central Station, Russ Brown waits for the 5:55 to Starting Over.

From his job in Salt Lake City to his family's new apartment in Clearfield, the train ride takes all of 42 minutes this evening, and in his new life, these moments are hugely significant.

In a world where a single spark can change the lives of an entire family, the minutiae matter. Twenty-nine miles is a world away from the only city he's ever called home. Forty-two minutes feel like an eternity.

The mind wanders.

"I like this driver," Brown says, recognizing the operator's voice over the intercom. "She goes faster than the other ones. It gives me less time to think. Usually I just sit here and start thinking about it. It drives me nuts."

"It" is the fire that ripped through his home at 729 S. 500 East on the morning of April 28. "It" happened just before 10, and no one was home but the family dog, Buddy, who could not escape. Few things survived, as Brown discovered for himself each time he returned to the house after the fire.

"You have to go for yourself, even though it hurts you inside," he said. "You need to. For closure, I guess."

He sifted through the blackness. He saved his wedding album, a hat his wife gave him as an anniversary gift, his grandfather's Bible, a ring that had been handed down through the family and the urn filled with Aunt Thelma's ashes.

Investigators were never able to pinpoint an exact cause. "Human accidental," said Salt Lake Fire Chief Denny McKone.

Brown has run a million scenarios through his mind. He says, "I wish I could have done something — anything." He says, "I feel like I let my family down."

It's 6:12 p.m., and the train is making its way through Bountiful. Brown's eyes focus on the city's east bench.

"I look at the scenery and then I look at the houses and then I think about our house," he says.

The home was his mother's, and his grandfather's before that. It was full of old wiring, bad pipes and good memories.

It was also uninsured.

Recent comments

Add your comment