He was a security guard at Morgan Stanley, on September 11, 2001, but he didn't begin life there.
He began life as one of sixteen siblings in Clarendon, Jamaica. He wanted something for himself that he didn't find in his homeland, so when he was 22, he left Jamaica and came to America. Like many from his place of birth, he settled in New York, working many jobs that included construction and cooking. He was a man who was willing to work and share of himself.
He was a giving man. He had a daughter, who misses him. This daughter was the love of his life. He would call her, daily, to let her know how important she was to him. It may have been frustrating for her, but when the calls stopped, one horrible day five years ago, she missed them. She still does.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, he called her for the last time. He told her the most important words he could have. "I love you." He called her name. Three times. She heard his voice, calm and in control, against the horrible rumbling in the background. He was on the 41st floor of Tower Two.