‘We have to find her.’ A tornado warning, a phone call, then a day of searching in Mayfield.
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One of the last assurances Jill Monroe gave her son, Chris Chism, was that she was taking shelter in the bathroom at the candle factory in Mayfield.
It was near 9:30 p.m. — Jill, who’s 52, had started her shift on the packaging line at Mayfield Consumer Products at 7 that evening — and Chism texted his mom after a spate of tornado warnings were levied for southwestern Kentucky. One tornado, which turned out to be the most devastating, was headed right for the candle factory and, behind it, downtown Mayfield.
Jill was sheltering with coworkers, and she texted Chism, who’s 33, that she was “scared to death.”
“Where we’re from, we’re used to tornadoes,” Chism said Saturday morning. So, reading that fearful text from his mom, who never showed fear about anything, was unnerving.
“She texted me that she was scared, and I said, ‘thank goodness,” Chism said in jest. “I told you it’s rough,” she texted back. Chism asked her to let him know how she fared. “I never got a response,” he said.
In the hour that followed after that text exchange, a tornado rampaged through Graves County, leaving in its wake an expanse of broken and exploded buildings, uprooted and gnarled trees, and downed power lines and highway light poles, some snapped like toothpicks. The same storm cell continued its path of destruction for at least 150 more miles through the commonwealth. What’s now known as the “quad-state tornado,” traveled a total of 230 miles across four states, leaving the some of the worst wreckage in Mayfield.
The candle factory, a warehouse-like industrial building, was among the hardest hit. No identifiable building frame was left Saturday morning. Instead, metal and steel crumbled like paper amid a sea of concrete, siding and insulation was scattered over more than an acre. More than 100 people were believed to be inside when the tornado hit, and only 40 or so had been accounted for by Saturday morning. With each passing hour, a recovery became more likely than a rescue.
When Chism and his fiancee Paige Tingle, 27, left their home in Oldham County en route to Mayfield Saturday morning, they were prepared to pull Jill out of the rubble. On the drive, Tingle, who’s certified in CPR, posted a picture of Jill to a Facebook group asking if anyone had seen her. Tingle has known Jill since she was child and considers her a mother.
“Please help, my mother was in the candle factory when it hit the ground. She was in the bathroom last we heard of her. We have called every hospital and police and still nothing,” she wrote.
Chism and Tingle were among the first to arrive at the scene early Saturday afternoon, before the site had been cordoned off to visitors. Once they saw the expanse of devastation, the idea of searching for people seemed inconceivable.
“Where do you even start?” Tingle said aloud. Then, to Chism, “We have to find her.”
She made a beeline for McCracken County Sheriff’s Deputy Matt Carter, who was guarding the entrance of the rubble with other emergency officials. Behind them, at least five backhoes were shoveling out pieces of the building while onlookers stood by, scanning the debris for bodies.
Tingle hastily pulled up a picture on her phone of Jill and flashed it at the sheriff.
“Have you seen this woman?” she asked, frantically. No one had.
“Are you still hearing voices?” Tingle asked. The night before, emergency responders were able to locate some people trapped under piles of debris by following their shouts.
‘Ma’am, we’ve been out here all night. No, not lately,” Carter said. He refused to let them in, and Tingle started to cry. “We have drove five hours,” she pleaded.
Next to Carter, a semi-truck’s doors swung open and two men, including Graves County Coroner Brad Jones, heaved a body in a body bag into the back before closing the door again.
Seeing this, Tingle’s voice shook. “Oh my god, no.”
Jones later confirmed the refrigerated truck was being used as a place to store bodies until they could be transported to a Medical Examiner’s office and identified. Police blocked the spectacle with two parked McCracken County school buses a few minutes later.
In an interview with media outlets, Jones’ voice cracked as he described the scene.
“This is something that you see happening in other places. You don’t think it would be here,” he said, swallowing hard. “I’ve been doing this 20 years, and it’s just a nightmare.”
Tingle’s phone rang. Their son and daughter wanted to know if they’d found their grandmother. Tingle said no, and her son started to cry.
“We’re trying to find her,” Tingle assured him.
Sheriff Carter and Coroner Jones advised the pair to drive to a nearby church, His House Ministries. There, volunteers were giving away food to families. In a smaller church building on top of a hill, emergency officials were meeting with families whose loved ones were still unaccounted for. Law enforcement collected personal information about the missing, including the last correspondence they had with relatives, and whether they had any distinguishable markings, such as tattoos, that police can use for identification.
Tingle and Chism were ushered into a room to speak with an emergency responder. He repeated what he knew: that he’d last heard from his mom while she was sheltering in the bathroom. They’d hoped law enforcement may have new information, but they didn’t. By sunset on Saturday, as temperatures dropped, Jill still hadn’t been found.
All they could do, officials said, was “just go to the hotel and wait.”
As overnight temperatures Saturday dipped into the 20s, excavation crews worked through the darkness, setting up large spotlights to illuminate the ruins as they worked.
Sunday morning, Paige and Chris got the call. Jill’s body had been found.
“Mom, I’m not sure what to say,” Chris wrote on Facebook. “I have you coming home so you can be here around your friends and all of your babies. I’m so sorry this happened, and I love you and miss you already.”
This story was originally published December 11, 2021 at 8:30 PM.