Hostage

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It was just chaos.

A day at the mall descends into mayhem.

As armed men turn shoppers into prey. Lots of screaming, lots of gunfire.
They had a demeanor like they owned the place. Panicked moms protecting their kids.
I just kept telling them to be quiet like a mouse. My goodness, he's going to cry.
This is it. Kids forced to protect one another.

You grabbed your brother.

Yeah, and just ran.

And from out of the blue, a hero.

I just call to her to run towards me, and she starts running.

Could he rescue the very smallest of victims?

When Portia got up and ran, did you have a moment where you thought, oh my God? I'm Lester Holt, and this is Dateline. Here's Kate Snow with Hostage.
It's the modern-day town square, a gathering place that fulfills our every need, shopping, eating, socializing.

A trip to the mall is an escape on weekends.

And not just in America.

In Nairobi, Kenya, the upscale and modern Westgate Mall was the place to unwind at the end of the work week.

It was the last place you'd expect something like this. Gunshots, explosions, armed men taking over every floor, methodically shooting anyone in their way.
That was the unbelievably brutal scene that played out in front of a shocked world September 21st, 2013.

Just after the smoke cleared, Dateline traveled to Nairobi.

We'll take you inside the mall attack.

With harrowing scenes of how it unfolded.

And details from those who lived through it.

You'll hear from two mothers caught in the crossfire. It was pretty terrifying.
It really was. It was very, very, very fearful.
What's going to happen? I'm going to die. The kids are going to die.
In a matter of seconds, these moms, an American and a Kenyan, would go from strolling through the mall to being forced to make life and death decisions to save themselves and their children. For Catherine Walton, it began like any other Saturday.
With her husband Philip away on business, she took their five kids to the Westgate Mall. It was a place where all of them could be entertained, the teens and the toddlers.
Her kids liked the chicken place, the candy store. Just an opportunity to walk around, kill a couple hours, and I knew that we'd go home and have naps and everybody'd be happy.
The Waltons chose to move to Kenya two years earlier from Texas. For Catherine and Philip, it was like going home.
They were both children of missionaries and grew up in countries in West Africa. They met in boarding school in Africa, married in the States, and started raising their family.
At the time of the attack, Blaise was 14 years old, Ian 10, Portia 4, Gigi 2, and Petra, the baby, just 13 months old, was born in Kenya. Their mourning at the mall unfolded just as any family's might.
They had lunch together in the third floor food court. After lunch, the boys decided to race down to the first floor to a big department store, sort of like a super Walmart, called Nakumat.
Mom and the three young girls were still finishing up lunch, so they lagged behind. As they were walking through the mall to catch up with the boys, with the baby in a sling, and the two toddlers holding mom's hands, it happened.
An explosion. So the first thing that tells you something's wrong is a huge bang.

Yeah.

Yeah. Coming from where? It was the main entrance, so it was off to my right and behind me.
I remember turning around and looking at it and just seeing people screaming and running. In those first seconds, Catherine was unsure what was happening.
She thought it sounded like broken glass or something falling, but she immediately grasped that she and her girls were in danger. The chaos confused another mother, not far from Catherine on the main floor.
Faith Wambua was in the mall with her two children, nine-year-old daughter Sai and 21-month-old son Tai.

The agricultural researcher was shopping for an anniversary present for her husband.

She was in a flower shop when she first heard the noise.

It was so loud that I actually thought

either there must have been an earthquake and the building was collapsing.

So that's the point when I just told my kids to lie down. Of course, I'm scanning the area wondering where we're going to go.
Scenes captured on security cameras in the mall show how quickly the attack began. Machine gun bullets flashing down the main concourse as shoppers frantically scramble and dive to the floor.
And then I saw a trace around starting to hit the shops that were straight ahead.

Catherine's first thought, protect her kids.

It was, you know, just instinct to grab the girls and run.

But we must not have gone very far, and a Kenyan woman came, scooped up Portia,

and we both ran right behind this display table, display cabinet. Catherine, her girls, and the Kenyan woman took cover the only place they could, crouching under a flimsy temporary display table.
Petra was crying because I was laying on her, and it was loud. It was very loud, very chaotic.

What was happening around you? What are you hearing?

You know, everybody was scrambling.

The shooting was, like, coming from all directions.

Catherine knew her boys had been headed toward that department store, the Nakumat.

Amid all the noise and commotion, she managed to call them and yell out a quick warning.

I said, don't come out of Nakumat. They their shooting.
Go, run, hide. Do not come out.
Catherine knew the situation was dangerous, extremely dangerous, but at least she had some cover. Faith Wambua and her kids were also trapped on the ground floor, but cowering out in the open, exposed to the gunmen stalking new victims.
I'm telling the kids who lie down, then now there's this continuous loud sound, and that's when I knew they were shooting. Then I thought, uh-oh, wrong choice of hiding place.
I remember even my daughter at one point asked me, Mama, was this the best place you could hide? The assault continued. You're not hearing just one gunman.
No, it was all over. It sounded all like it was all over.
And of course, in the building, it was just echoing and reverberating. So you could actually look up and see other floors? Where I was laying, I could see across and up the different levels.
You know, It was just chaos. What's the smell like? The whole mall was cloudy and just smoke everywhere.
Gunpowder, burning smell. Did any of them come anywhere near you? I saw two of them that walked from the main entrance in front of the line of stores that were directly in front of us.
Hold on. What did you see? I mean, you saw their feet go by? No, I saw them.
I saw two whole men. You know, they were 50 yards, 30 yards away.
I don't know. What did they look like? They had tan and gray clothing and they were carrying very, very large weapons, very large guns.
Hearing the gunfire and screams echoing through the mall, both Catherine and Faith could tell the gunmen were spreading out, killing people as they went along. Two mothers trapped with young children worried they'd be next, and a growing fear seized Catherine.
Her boys were no longer answering their phone.

Where were they?

When we come back,

the terrifying uncertainty for those inside the mall and loved ones outside.

I get woken up by a phone call.

Your wife and sons are in there and they're separated.

Soon, a friend of Catherine's who's been texting with her would go from worried to frantic. When she sent that, my heart just sunk.
When Dateline continues. Armed men stormed into the Westgate Mall in Nairobi, Kenya, firing round after fatal round.
Catherine Walton was hunkered down near where the shooting had started, crouched in a small kiosk with a stranger and her three young daughters. She was desperately worried about her sons, who were somewhere out there, but she had to focus on keeping her daughters quiet so they wouldn't attract attention.
Are you hiding from gunmen? Yeah, we were laying down on the ground trying to hide from them so that they couldn't see us. Portia kept her fingers in her ears.
Gigi laid there and she said, Mom, I want my blanket and my mouse and my flashlight. She sleeps with those three things every night.

She said she wanted her brothers.

And I told her that we'd see them later.

Catherine could only hope that was true.

Half a world away, a phone rang in a hotel in North Carolina.

Catherine's husband, Philip, a tech entrepreneur, had gone back to the U.S. for business meetings, leaving his wife alone in Nairobi with their five kids.
I got woken up about 6 a.m. by a phone call from Paul Weaver, who's our dear family friend.
So I knew it was not good. Do you remember what he said? You know, there's an attack going on at Westgate, and your wife and sons are in there there and they're separated.
That's a call you don't want to have to make. Yeah.
Paul Weaver, the Walton family friend, had been at home recovering from surgery when he got an urgent text from Catherine. What time did the first message come in? The first one came in at 1252.
And what did she say? She said, pray, shooting in Westgate, hiding. That's a message.
It just blew me away. So I actually wrote her back, really.
And she said, yes, I don't know where the boys are. And she said, find Blaise.
Paul texted the Walton's oldest son, Blaise, but he didn't answer. I started looking on the Internet.
Somebody put out a statement on Facebook saying, don't call anybody, because when the phone rings there, people are getting shot when their phone rings. Oh, God.
Paul didn't call, but stayed in touch with Catherine through text messages, her lifeline to the outside world. I sent a text, get me out of here.
I'm not like I really thought he could, but I was just desperate. And that one, when she sent that, my heart just sunk.
Catherine didn't text her husband, Philip, because she knew he was too far away to do anything and knew she'd only panic him. Back in North Carolina, all Philip could do was wait.
It was 6 a.m., and news of the attack hadn't hit the U.S. yet.
I'm trying to imagine the feeling of getting that phone call and being so far away. I think helplessness is a pretty accurate word.
You know there's nothing that you can do. I was so worried the girls would just be screaming, like uncontrollably panicking and drawing attention.
Exactly what Catherine was trying to prevent the girls from doing. I just kept telling them to stay little, to stay very quiet.
And the Kenyan lady that was with Portia just kept patting her and soothing her. And Gigi just was curled up in a little ball.
Her breathing was so quiet and so shallow. I just kept rubbing her back and touching her.
Because I was like, maybe she's hurt and I don't realize it. Cramped in her hiding spot, she was desperate to reach her boys.
After trying and trying, she finally got through again. I was able to send a text and just said, are you okay? And he told me that they were okay and that they were safe.
You thought your boys had gotten out. I did.
When he told me they were safe, I thought they had gotten out. But they hadn't.
The Walton boys were hiding in the back of the Nakumat store. The aisles were a bullet-riddled maze.
Shoppers were stunned, some drawing fire. And now there were gunmen headed toward Catherine's sons.
Faith Wambua was the other mother trapped in this nightmare. She had her two young children with her and was worried about controlling her toddler son.
They heard gunfire all around them. I feel bad, you know, right now because I was lying on him, trying to shield him at one point, and I said, oh my goodness, lying on this floor, and then I'm pressing down on his back.
He must be so uncomfortable. At that point, that is when I put my fingers in his mouth, you know, hoping to give him something to suck on.
They remained like that, frozen in place, first for minutes, then for an hour. She was terrified her son would start crying and give them away.
I can see his face, you know, creasing into a cry. And I know, my goodness, he's going to cry.
This is it. Coming up, Faith makes a fateful choice.
We thought now our cover has been blown.

While our other mom, Catherine, becomes terrified that she and her girls are moments away from being discovered. I knew that if those men came around behind us, that they could see us.
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Catherine Walton was still in her makeshift hiding spot on the main floor of the mall.

An hour into the attack, she was still trying to keep her three restless daughters contained under that flimsy table,

their only protection from the roaming gunman. It was a job that got harder as the mall got quieter.
There was a lull and Petra picked up the phone and was playing with it and then Gigi was trying to take it away from her and then the shooting started again. One of them threw the phone and it just got underneath our bodies and I couldn't reach it.
So you couldn't text anybody? I couldn't text anybody. I couldn't get a hold of anybody.
For a couple hours there I was texting her and then no more texting from then. Other people started calling me and saying this is really bad.
We've seen pictures of people being killed. And she's not responding to you now? No.
Just down the corridor, another mother struggled to keep her children quiet. I'm here thinking about our survival.
Also thinking, will this stop and we can run to some area where it's safe? But there was nowhere else for Faith and her children to go. She told them being quiet wasn't enough.
She made an incredible decision. They would all play dead.
Her then nine-year-old daughter could understand how important it was to stay still. Amazingly, her son then too seemed to sense it as well.
He didn't move except for an occasional blink. Men with machine guns scoured every inch of the mall.
We were right next to a corridor where we could hear them passing from time to time, but there was no way I was going to change my position. As the minutes dragged into hours, knowing her son might stir at any moment, Faith was relieved when he dozed off for a bit.
He was lying there on the ground, you know, snoring away. I didn't know whether he was alive because one eye was shut, the other one was open, an unusual way to sleep.
Hot, cramped, with numb limbs, Faith urged her kids to fight the need to move. My daughter, whenever I felt like she was, you know, twitching or changing a position, because my hand was on her arm, I would just, you know, just squeeze a little bit, and that she totally understood that to mean stay still.
But then two-year-old Ty woke up. Faith wondered how much longer he could hold on.
She took a chance and played a game. She pretended glass and cement were insects to keep him distracted.
Selim, there's an insect coming, and you'd watch it so fascinated. He really likes insects.
The gunman continued to brazenly troll the mall floors, looking for victims.

Catherine was worried they would finally see her and the girls.

After all, she was seeing the gunman.

When they walked by you, were they shooting?

No. They were walking very slow.

They almost had a demeanor like they owned the place, like they knew they were in control. Did they see you? They looked my direction.
I knew that if those men came out of Nakhima and came around behind us, that they could see us. Those men had already killed dozens of shoppers.
Captured by a security camera, a wounded person is prodded by a terrorist.

Other parts show the gunmen callously shooting people throughout the mall, even the injured. As the siege dragged on, the outside world was beginning to get some idea of how terrible it was.
Good evening. Loud explosions were heard tonight in the Kenyan capital of Nairobi.
Those still trapped inside the mall couldn't know they were part of a terrorist attack. Faith Wambua and her two kids remained absolutely still.
It was their only chance for survival. But her mind raced.
I'm thinking about my husband. Where is he? How will he get to know about this incident? I'm wondering, will any of my children get shot? Will I get shot and my children have no mother after this? Faith was determined to protect her children at any cost.
I remember at some point I was covering the children, my son's head and my daughter's head, and I said, any bullet would have to pass through me first before it gets to these children. Faith and her children had been flat on the floor for a full three and a half hours.

When suddenly, she heard something.

We had heard voices from above us on higher floors asking us to get up.

Mother, mother with the children.

You mother down there with the children.

I knew they were now addressing me. But immediately we got up onto our knees and were trying to get up to go.
The shooting started again. She thought by moving, she'd drawn attention to herself.
We were scared at first because we thought now our cover has been blown. Because now they know that we are really not dead.
Faith didn't trust anyone now. So when a man approached, she was sure it wasn't good.
And that's why now when I felt somebody touching me, I knew now they've come for us, because now they know we are alive. So we just lay down there and remember even telling my daughter, shh, quiet.
Coming up, Faith has to make a split-second decision.

Their lives depend on it.

Should she trust the man talking to her child?

Baby, baby, touching my daughter.

Baby, baby.

And then a fresh shock for Catherine's husband.

That was very traumatic to me.

When Dateline continues. For three and a half hours after armed gunmen stormed the Westgate Mall, two mothers had been trapped.
Catherine Walton crouched for cover with three young daughters under a temporary kiosk, gunmen patrolling nearby. And Faith Wambua, she and her two young children had played dead all that time.
They moved once and were instantly shot at. As a man approached them, Faith held her position.
But he wasn't a terrorist. He was a police officer.
Baby, baby, touching my daughter. Baby, baby, are you okay? Are you okay? And I said, wow.
In my mind, I'm thinking this must be a good person. They want to find out if you're okay, not are we alive? Are we okay? Then he said, it's safe.
It's safe. It's the police.
Faith's nine-year-old daughter, Sai, was the first to move. My daughter put up her head, you know, quite hesitant, and asked him, are you

with the bad guys? Because, I mean, I was still looking down. I was scared.
I thought, now they've come where we are. So my daughter really put her head up.
It was too late to even tell her to go back down, engage the policeman in a conversation. Are you with the bad people? And then said, Mama, look up.
And then, almost against her instincts, Faith began to trust. When I looked up, I'd seen his civilian jacket.
I didn't know who he was. I wasn't going to trust somebody except if they were in a uniform.
And then he, as he sat up, then I saw his shirt. I was able to recognize the uniform.
And then he said, it's fine, I'm going to lead you to safety. Get up.
Desperately afraid to move, Faith agreed it was time to make a run for it. Still worried that gunfire would erupt again, Faith slowly got up and crept toward the exit with her children.
I remember even seeing a body lying there on the steps as we ran out, but I said,

I'm focusing on where we're going.

There was this policeman, the one who was carrying my daughter,

was running too fast and was way ahead.

The one with my son was lagging behind,

and I'm thinking, don't separate us.

I kept on saying, my son, my son.

After all those hours,

forced to keep her children quiet,

they were finally out.

I'm crying now because I'm free. You know, there's all these tears of joy.
In his hotel room 6,000 miles away in Charlotte, Philip Walton could only hope his story would have such a happy ending. He was combing through Kenyan news reports he saw on social media.
I remember one specifically where they said they were, somebody had just seen them bring a child's body out in a shopping cart. And they said it was a five or six-year-old little boy.
And I thought to myself, well, I don't think anybody would confuse our boys for being five or six. But could they confuse one of our girls for being a little boy? And that piece of news was very traumatic to me.
In agony and alone, he prayed and started playing one song over and over in his mind. I think we do have a measure of grace that comes to us in very difficult times.

For me, there was a U2 song that went off in the back of my head.

It's called 40. It's from the 40th Psalm.

And I just started reading that psalm over and over again.

And it was exactly what I needed to hear.

And so I took a lot of comfort from that.

It's got that great, I know the song. It's an awesome song.
How long to sing this song? Exactly. Yeah.
It became kind of the inspiration of hope. It gave me something to pray about during the time that I didn't know what was going on.
He was comforted by his faith, but it was impossible not to worry. By now, he knew what his wife didn't.
That his entire family was caught in a carefully coordinated, full-blown terrorist attack. You think the worst, you know.
When you know that these are terrorists and you We know not, you know, to steal something and get out of there, but it's to kill people. And you know that their intent is to hurt Christians.
You know that their intent is to try and disrupt our way of life in Kenya. You know, it's the realities of what that could mean are very present.
He had no way of knowing whether his family was alive or not. No way of knowing that soon some of his prayers would be answered.
Coming up, Philip and Catherine's sons are trapped in the most violent part of the mall, and a 14-year-old realizes it's up to him to protect his younger brother. I just thought, Ian first, save him.
Me second. When Dateline continues.
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Three hours had passed since Philip Walton was awakened by a call telling him his family was

trapped inside the Westgate Mall, pinned down by gunfire. He'd been on his computer all morning, checking for updates.
Then suddenly, he received a Facebook message from a friend with a freeze frame of video. In the bottom right-hand corner was an unmistakable sight, his two sons alive and outside the mall.
It was my two sons standing with my business partner. He was a very big, very noticeable man.
Paul Weaver raced down to the mall area and confirmed the picture was real. The boys were out.
And just seeing them, I mean, I don't think there's been any bigger hugs in the world. But it was joy, but at the same time, just seeing the anguish in their face.
And Blaise, we just sat on the floor, and he just laid his head down, and just all the emotions coming through him. So it was the greatest moment and one of the saddest moments at the same time.
A joyful moment for Philip, knowing his boys were finally safe, but too brief because he knew his wife and three young daughters were still trapped in that mall. The Walton boys, Blaise and Ian, had endured three and a half hours in the most dangerous area, in the Nakumat department store, where terrorists hunted down innocent victims, terrifying for anyone, but especially for two boys separated from their mother.
This is Blaise Walton. It was difficult for him to recount the story of what happened to him and his brother, but he wanted to tell it starting from the beginning.
The two brothers had just paid and were still standing in the checkout line when they saw something strange. And what's the first thing you hear or see that's weird? Everybody looks to the main entrance, and we all look as well.
Everybody knock them out, and then a loud sound happens, and three people go flying, and then that's when people realize what's going on, and they run. Three people go flying into the air? They just, like like fell backwards.
They just went, it was scary. Did you think it was a bomb or something? I thought it was a bomb at first, but then when I heard the two gunfire sounds, I knew it wasn't just a bomb, it was something else.
He knew he had to protect himself. And more than that, he knew he was responsible for his younger brother.

You grabbed your brother. Yeah.
As fast as you could. Yeah.
And just ran. Were you pushing him? Yes.
You didn't want him to see anything. That's hard for, that would be hard for me.
It'd be hard for a grown-up. Yeah.
At 14, it's pretty darn hard. It really is.
Blez, clutching his brother Ian, raced away from the gunfire with just one thought. I just thought, Ian first, save him, me second.
And you headed toward the back of the store. Other people at that time were rushing back, so we followed the crowd.
They made it to a storeroom at the back of the Nakumat. Others were hiding there too, including an American mother with her own kids.
Without Catherine there to comfort them, the boys stayed with that mother. Blaise hoped they were far enough away from the gun-toting terrorists, but they weren't.
Surveillance video shows the terrorists made it all the way to the back,

hunting for more victims.

But this wise 14-year-old did something ingenious.

I finally just pulled in his side, sat him down behind a thing of flour.

There's one-by-one-by-one meters of flour on all sides of him.

So kind of like a barricade of flour bags?

Yeah, and then we had pulled toilet paper on top of our head so nobody would even see us. Why did you need to be hidden? Because we didn't know if people were going to be walking back and looking for us.
So we just pulled all stops. Ten-year-old Ian Walton remembers how scared he was.
Did you see any of the bad guys? No, but it did seem like someone closed the gate for where we were, and it seemed like they were trying to shoot through it and threw grenades to blow it up, but they never got through. You heard a lot of loud sounds.
Yeah. Yikes.
And you said you were back there, how long were you? Like three and a half hours. You thought about it a little bit, yeah? But when you were there, I know if it were me, I would have been really, really scared.
We were pretty, pretty scared. All my brother and me did was just pray for our family and just lay there.
They lay there and listened. And every once in a while, we'd hear gunfire, grenade sounds.
And at one point point these people came in saying, we're the police, it's okay. The gunfire the Walton boys had been hearing briefly paused, and those voices, identifying themselves as police, were encouraging people to come out.
Around him, Blaise heard people start moving. They walked out, and then about 15 seconds later you just heard loud machine gun fire for about 30 seconds and then it just was quiet.
So you think it was the bad guys luring them out? You did the right thing by staying where you were. I mean the lady we were with she had told us what to do every step of the way and without her I don't think I think me and my brother would have gone out with that crowd.
So thanks to her, we're still alive.

The Walton boys were holed up in that back room

when eventually police were able to break down a door

and get people out.

Relief washed over Philip Walton

when he saw his boys in the image his friend sent him.

At least his sons were okay.

I remember thinking at that time,

at least I won't be alone.

I remember thinking, however horrific this day is,

at least the boys and I will have each other if it turns out worse than we would hope or imagine.

His wife, Catherine, was still trapped under that tiny table with her three girls. And now things were looking worse.
A man with a gun was headed their way. Coming up, just who was he? And then a daring escape plan from an unlikely hero.
And then I tell the lady, now. What happened next amazed the world.
When Dateline continues. For more than four hours, Catherine Walton, her girls, and the Kenyan woman helping them huddled in a hiding space barely bigger than a bathtub.
Closed off from the outside world, Catherine didn't know she was part of a terrorist attack. All she knew was that gunmen were canvassing the mall, shooting at everyone.
And now a man with a gun was creeping toward her. You were under that table for hours.
At some point, you hear something, you see something. I think there was a little bit of commotion and the Kenyan woman said the cops are here.
But it wasn't the police. It was a Kenyan man named Abdul Haji.
The businessman and father of four had received a text message from his brother earlier that morning. The message was very brief.
It just read, at Wastegate, terrorist, pray for me. Abdul Haji bolted to the mall and was stunned by what he saw when he got there.
Carnage everywhere. He was terrified for his brother, who works for the Kenyan intelligence service, and had received death threats from Al-Shabaab, the same terror group that was now attacking the mall.
At this point in time, the magnitude of the whole situation dawned on me. Security forces were just arriving, and Abdul, who's licensed to carry a gun, decided in an instant to join them.
They entered the mall from the parking garage on the top floor. Abdul's brother was still in the mall and actually not far from Catherine Walton and her girls on the main floor.
He was hiding in a bathroom. Abdul worked his way down to the main floor, and as he did, his brother managed to escape.
I reached my phone, tried to call him, and I see this message on my screen saying, I'm out, I'm safe, please come out. But Abdul Haji didn't come out.
Despite the gruesome scene, the blood, the bodies, the smell of smoke and constant gunfire, he decided to stay and help. Abdul searched through the mall, looking for victims.
Then he made a discovery that shocked him. I looked down and I see somebody hiding behind the table.
It was a lady. She looked very scared.
And I'm thinking she was right in the middle of the crossfire. Catherine spotted Abdul too, but sensed he wasn't a threat.
How did you know they weren't terrorists? They weren't carrying the large guns we had seen that the terrorist had. With just a few words between them, Catherine Walton and Abdul Haji quickly coordinated an exit strategy.
We opened fire towards the door, you know, just to scare the terrorists away. Then it was time.
Then we hold fire, and then I tell the lady, now! And suddenly this young girl appears out of nowhere, and I just call to her to run towards me, and she starts running. And immediately I'm thinking, what a brave girl.
When Portia got up and ran, did you have a moment where you thought, oh my God? I think I realized that it was precarious, but I was also trusting that if they were telling us to run, that it was safe. For Catherine, it was a gigantic leap of faith.
After shielding her daughters for four and a half hours, she knew that to save them, she would have to let them go. The image of four-year-old Portia running to Abdul-Haji was one no one would soon forget.
Catherine wasn't far behind. In North Carolina, Philip got a phone call from his business partner, Eric Hurstman.
I got confirmation from Eric that he was standing there with them and that they were all safe. Your whole family.
Yeah. Then I broke down and cried.
Yeah. Then it, you know, then you can let go, you know, then you can just kind of, you of collapse.
Later, a picture followed. His wife and children trapped in that mall for hours in terror were now in the safety of a friend's house, together.
Simply the most precious thing I could even imagine to see all of them sitting there in safety and knowing that they had come through it.

Philip grabbed the first flight back to Kenya.

Must have felt really good when he got off the plane.

It was very good because, you know, as a mom, when Dad's not around,

you feel like you have to keep it together and you've got to be strong.

And the kids were very excited to see him.

They had been asking.

They were relieved to finally be able to touch him and hug him and have that extra security. Images showed the devastation and destruction of the Westgate Mall, ravaged by a siege that dragged on for four days.
Terrorists with links to al-Qaeda claimed responsibility, and the Kenyan government said at least 67 people died.

For the survivors, it was difficult to make sense of it all, to move on.

Faith Wambua went home, hugged her husband,

and two days after the attack,

there was cause for celebration and time for reflection.

I'm grateful for being alive, for our children being alive.

I'm grateful to be reunited with my husband.

Thank you. was cause for celebration and time for reflection.
I'm grateful first for being alive, for our children being alive. I'm grateful to be reunited with my husband, Ike.
I never thought I'd see our second anniversary, but we did, and this incident has actually brought us more closer. We now don't want to leave each other's sides.
Faith and her children were reunited with that police officer who reached out to her on that terrible day, grateful he risked his life to save theirs. Welcome home.
Thank you. I remember that song.
Hello, baby. Hello, baby.
The Waltons, too, said they were grateful for friends, new and old, especially young Portia, who beamed when we showed her a picture of her rescuer on a smartphone. Is that Mr.
Haji? What did he do? He saved us! He saved you! How are you? Good, good, how are you? Nice to see you again. Three days after the worst day of their lives, the Waltons were reunited with their hero.
Abdul Haji is himself a father and a Muslim. It's not lost on him that he is forever linked to a Christian family who chose to live in Kenya.
And that's what humanity is all about. It happened that I was a Muslim and they were Christians.
But at that time, what I was seeing was that little girl and her mother. I was not seeing what religion that person was.
Lots of emotions. As we've been able to tell this story and spend time with Haji and, you know, to see the courage of a man like that, it was an inspiration for me.
And Blaise Walton said he had a new perspective. You've seen the worst of humanity, and you've seen the best of humanity.
Yeah, same day. It's just a miracle to be able to live both of those in one day.
And for Catherine and her children, as dismal and as dark as the events in that mall were, she refused to do anything but grow and be positive for herself and her family.

Because I don't want them to come out of this and hate or be angry about what happened.

It would be easy to be angry.

It would be very easy to be angry.

I don't want them to see the bad part of it.

I want them to come turn that bad situation

into something positive.

That's all for now.

I'm Lester Holt. Thanks for joining us.
A true crime story never really ends. Even when a case is closed, the journey for those left behind is just beginning.
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