Finally he looked directly into the camera and said, “You want the definition of courage, that’s Captain Sanchez.”

He turned to that station’s aviation reporter, Charles Modica, and asked what to expect. Modica scratched his head. “It’s going to be the longest minute of their lives,” he said. Captain Sanchez was going to shut down that plane. During that time, they would be flying blind and deaf, “as out of touch with the rest of the world during those seconds as Apollo 13 was when it went behind the moon to slingshot home.”

Completely unexpectedly, Cooper read something, shook his head in admiration, and laughed. “This is unbelievable,” he said, holding on to a sheet of paper. “We just got this text that they’re getting ready to shut down and Sanchez told the passengers he would see them on the ground…”—he laid down that sheet of paper—“and while they were waiting, they might focus on who they’d like to play them in the movie.”

Jenny sobbed.

Anderson Cooper had his hands clasped in front of him. “Captain Sanchez has just reported to ATC that he is shutting down all systems. It is exactly 2:45 A.M. here on the East Coast.” He paused, then whispered, “Godspeed flight 342.”

We held hands tightly. Neither one of us could speak.

I don’t know how Cooper did it. “We estimate that at this point Northern American flight 3-4-2, en route to Los Angeles, has been in the air without power for fifteen seconds.” Then, “Thirty seconds…”

Modica said, “It would be completely silent on board. They probably can hear the wind whistling outside the fuselage. The plane is slowing. I can’t begin to imagine what those people are thinking.”

“Forty-five seconds,” Cooper said.

“The nose has dipped by this time,” Modica said, sounding as if he was speaking to himself. “The downward descent has begun. They have no way of determining their altitude. Low and getting lower.”

“Fifty-five seconds.”

“Right about now they’re powering up.” A brief pause. Then, “The systems should be coming back online. We’re going to hear from them in a few seconds.”

Silence. Silence. Silence. “Please,” Jenny said. “Please.”

Silence. Silen … Cooper broke into a huge smile. A breath of relief exploded from his mouth as he said, “Albuquerque air traffic control is reporting that they are in contact with Northern American flight 3-4-2. Pilots Sanchez and Stein report they have regained control of their aircraft. Everyone aboard A-OK.” He paused once again and took a huge breath. “They’re coming home.” He actually laughed. “They’re safe and they’re coming home. Although Captain Sanchez told the air traffic controllers that if they didn’t mind, he’d like to put down in Albuquerque for a cup of coffee.”

Through her tears Jenny laughed. I admit it, I wiped away my own tears.

I flicked around the stations. On ABC David Muir was shaking his fist to express his joy. CBS somehow had gotten a several-second video from Boeing, showing unidentified people hugging and high-fiving each other in a control room somewhere.