New York
—
On September 11, 2001, as the second tower of the World Trade Center collapsed, then New York City Fire Department Battalion Chief James “Jim” Riches raced to Ground Zero.
His eldest son, Jimmy Jr., a firefighter assigned to Ladder 114 in Brooklyn’s Sunset Park neighborhood, was working with Engine Company 4 that morning when he responded to the call in lower Manhattan.
Jimmy Jr. was last seen carrying an injured woman from the lobby of the North Tower.
Instead of celebrating Jimmy Jr.’s 30th birthday the next day, Riches spent the following six months tirelessly sifting through twisted steel and ash, risking his own safety, searching for the son who followed in his footsteps. Jimmy Jr. was one of 343 firefighters killed responding to the attacks.
When the towers and several surrounding buildings collapsed, a dense cloud of toxic dust, gases and smoke engulfed lower Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
“He was there every day to find his son,” said Richard Brower, retired FDNY lieutenant and former president of the Uniformed Fire Officers Association.
Riches’ search for his son ended in March 2002, when Jimmy Jr.’s crushed helmet, bearing the Ladder 114 number, was found in the rubble of where the North Tower once stood. His body was uncovered nearby.
Twenty-four years later, the toxic exposure from those months of searching would claim Riches’ life too. Riches died Thanksgiving Day, becoming one of more than 400 FDNY members who have died from 9/11-related illnesses. He was 74.
Thousands more firefighters, fire officers, EMTs and recovery workers are battling cancers, lung disease, heart conditions, digestive disorders and other chronic illnesses caused by inhaling Ground Zero toxins.
Riches spent two decades fighting to get justice for 9/11 survivors, victims and their families.
Riches joined the fire department in 1977 and, over the years, earned the nickname “Big Daddy” for always having one of his sons by his side.
Jimmy Jr., a former NYPD officer, joined the FDNY in 1999. His three younger brothers — Timothy, Danny and Thomas — would go on to become firefighters themselves.
When Jimmy Jr.’s body was found in March 2002, Riches called on his sons, including FDNY Capt. Thomas Riches, who was 17 at the time, and together they carried Jimmy Jr. out of the pit at Ground Zero, where the North Tower once stood. They placed him on a stretcher wrapped in an American flag as workers nearby lined up for a procession.
“A whole crew of us got down there on our hands and knees and we dug, you know, with our hands,” Riches previously said.
Even after finding his son, Riches returned to Ground Zero every day until recovery efforts ended in May 2002, hoping to bring peace to other families. More than 2,900 people died on 9/11, and Riches was determined to help recover them all.
“I stayed to the very end, and it was a gruesome task,” Riches previously said, “and it’s just nice that America never forgets, and they keep this going on, because these people were heroes who were attacked on this land, and they don’t deserve to be forgotten.”
“My son’s not going to come back. It doesn’t give you any closure,” he said. “But you know, I have a cemetery to go to. There’s a thousand families who have nothing to go to, and it breaks my heart knowing this is their cemetery.”
Years later, Riches said whenever he was in the area, he’d stop by, bless himself, and say a little prayer.
In the years that followed, Riches watched as fellow firefighters began to fall ill — coughing up blood, battling mysterious cancers and lung diseases. He was already sounding the alarm, writing letters, speaking at union meetings and testifying before lawmakers about the growing health crisis among 9/11 first responders.
Riches faced his own medical emergency in 2005. After months of struggling to breathe, he was hospitalized with acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS), a life-threatening condition that left him in a coma for 16 days.
“They told my family I’d be dead in five hours, get everybody together. And I pulled out of it, then I had, like, stroke-like symptoms. I had to learn how to walk and talk and do everything all over again. I’m alive, thank God,” he told CNN in 2014.
But his lung capacity was never the same.
“He could never catch his breath, you know. And he battled all those small battles with the lungs and everything for years,” Thomas said. “A lot of people might not have known it, but we knew it at home.”
Riches retired from the fire department in 2007 as deputy chief — the highest rank a firefighter can achieve without a city appointment, Thomas said.
For most of his life, Riches was a powerhouse — on the basketball court at Iowa State University, in FDNY leagues where he dominated, and on the shore where he ran daily. When Riches and his older sons played basketball together, Thomas said, they were “a force to be reckoned with.”
He became a fierce champion for first responders, 9/11 victims and their families, eventually chairing the organization 9/11 Families and Parents of Firefighters and WTC Victims.
His efforts, along with those of other survivors and families, helped lead to the creation of the World Trade Center Health Program and the 9/11 Victim Compensation Fund. He testified before Congress, met with the Obama administration, and traveled to Guantanamo Bay to represent families during hearings for the men charged with conspiring in the attacks.
Locally, he was unafraid to speak out, publicly criticizing then–New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani for politicizing the tragedy and for the city’s lack of preparation and outdated equipment — especially the nearly decade-old radios that prevented many firefighters from hearing mayday calls.
When the 9/11 Memorial Museum opened in 2014, Riches was there — not to celebrate, but to denounce what he called “a revenue-generating tourist attraction.” He often spoke publicly about his disdain for its ticketed admission. The museum does not provide funding to support 9/11 survivors or their families, nor does it contribute to research on World Trade Center-related illnesses. The museum declined to comment specifically on support for 9/11 families.
Riches’ devotion to his family and his fellow firefighters was legendary.
“He was always like this larger-than-life figure to me,” Thomas said. No matter how busy he was with work or advocacy, he always found a way to attend every one of his sons’ sports games. Brower called him both “larger than life” and a devoted family man, and praised Riches’ wife, Rita, as “a saint.”
Riches’ legacy lives on in the Dyker Heights street in Brooklyn named for his son, the scholarships in Jimmy Jr.’s honor, and the countless lives he touched through his advocacy. He never truly left Ground Zero — he remained, dedicating the rest of his life to supporting 9/11 families and sick firefighters.
His funeral, held December 1 at St. Patrick Roman Catholic Church in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, drew crowds that wrapped around the block, braving the rain to pay their respects.
“It was overwhelming, just hearing all the stories from everybody,” Thomas said. High-ranking firefighters, including those in appointed positions, told him they looked up to his father.
“Those are guys that you thought everybody looked up to,” Thomas said. “And they were like, no, he was setting the example and the tone for us. I thought that was pretty powerful.”
As Riches was laid to rest, the solemn sound of bagpipes echoed through the streets — a full FDNY sendoff for a man who never stopped fighting for his fellow firefighters.
Additional information on World Trade Center-related illnesses and the World Trade Center Health Program can be found on the CDC’s website.
Correction:
An earlier version of this story misspelled the last name of Richard Brower.
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