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National Weather ServiceStorm Prediction Center
Norman, Oklahoma
Saturday, April 1, 2006
11:59 p.m.: Warm front extending across Missouri into the southeastern U.S. ... Moist, unstable air, mid-Mississippi region. Possible tornadoes.
Sunday, April 2, 2006, 5:30 p.m.
Dyer County, Tennessee
The picture windows in Rick and Laura Gregory's home looked west over cotton fields toward the Mississippi River and the boot heel of Missouri beyond. As the sun went down, it played tricks with the sky, painting it yellow and orange. The news crawl at the bottom of the TV screen in the Gregorys' family room said "Tornado watch."
Laura was in the kitchen preparing an early dinner. Her husband, Rick, a patrol sergeant for Dyer County, had just come off duty. If a storm struck, he'd have to go back out again. She wanted to get some food in him first.
Then the newscasters came on to report that a tornado had hit Marmaduke, Arkansas, 60 miles to the west. When they started talking about Caruthersville, directly across the Mississippi, Rick was sure they were in for it. He quickly finished his supper. Without a storm cellar, people said, the bathroom was the safest place. He turned to Laura and told her to get theirs ready. If you hunker down in the tub with a cell phone, a candle and a battery-powered radio, you'll be okay. What Rick was about to see over the next 48 hours would change that belief forever.
The previous weekend, Vanice and Larry Parker had moved into their new ranch house with cypress wood siding on Meacham Road. They'd taken their time building, adding custom touches to the house and a large cabinetry workshop in the side yard. Having lived down the road for ten years, they already knew their new neighbors by sight -- Janie King, the Hickmans and the McAndrews.
Vanice and Larry had spent most of Sunday rearranging furniture, trying different configurations for the dining and living room areas. They unpacked boxes and planted a few trees. The day was unusually warm for April, so Vanice opened the windows in the living room. There was a nice breeze blowing in the afternoon. At about 6:30, Larry announced, "I think we should call it a night. Let's get our baths, fix something to eat and watch some cable."
Being so busy with the move, it seemed like ages since they had just sat down to relax. They hurried, Vanice to take a bath, Larry a shower, before they caught the film starting at 7 p.m. Grabbing snacks, they settled down on the sofa in pajamas just as the movie Crash began.
Climbing into his patrol car, Rick Gregory then pulled onto Route 103 West, which ran straight as a chalk line through fallow cotton fields seven miles to the Mississippi River. He heard a fellow deputy on the radio calling Dispatch, asking if there were any warnings out yet. "Warnings" was the term that was used when radar readings indicated tornado conditions. No, Dispatch answered, no warnings yet.
Rick got on the radio and told the team, "I'm heading down to the Great River Road to watch."
As he drove, Rick began to study the sky. He had never seen anything like it, never had such a ringside seat right on the edge of a super cell T-storm. It was as if the road was acting as a boundary. The entire sky to the left, southward, was a pleasant, warm blue with golden sunlight. But everything to the north was a roiling, pitch-black mass of the meanest-looking cloud cover he'd ever seen.
He pulled up at the intersection of 103 and Great River Road, and just sat and watched. Two ducks flew by, moving with the wind. To Rick it looked like they were going 100 miles an hour. He craned his neck out the car window and stared at the clouds. He could make out a distinct clockwise rotation taking shape.
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