48 Hours - The Station Nightclub Fire: Who's Responsible?

Episode Date: October 24, 2021

Club owners open up for the first time after deadly fire kills 100. "48 Hours" contributor Jim Axelrod reports.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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and even your overall well-being. And you can enjoy Audible anytime, while doing household chores, exercising, commuting, you name it. There's more to imagine when you listen. Sign up for a free 30-day Audible trial and your first audiobook is free. Visit audible.ca. In 2014, Laura Heavlin was in her home in Tennessee when she received a call from California. Her daughter, Erin Corwin, was missing. The young wife of a Marine had moved to the California desert

to a remote base near Joshua Tree National Park. They have to alert the military. And when they do, the NCIS gets involved. From CBS Studios and CBS News, this is 48 Hours NCIS. Listen to 48 Hours NCIS ad-free starting October 29th on Amazon Music. He took nearly 24 hours to recover all the bodies from inside the ruins of Rhode Island Station nightclub. Horrible things happen to people for absolutely no reason. The death toll was far greater than anyone expected.

We went out on a Thursday night to listen to music, drink some beers and have a good time. And a quarter of those people didn't get to go home, ever. This is what I live with. I don't hide it. Second and third degree burns over 34% of my body from the heat. I'm lucky I even have arms. It was a neighborhood club for live music. The people who went to that club were regulars.

The headliner was Jack Russell's Great White. You really had to work your way through the crowd. It was packed. I'm standing, you know, three rows back from the edge of the stage. We're just waiting, and then it gets dark. The music starts. The pyrotechnics went off, The pyrotechnics went off, and I remember being a little shocked. It just felt really big. And I just sort of noticed some flame on the walls on either side, and then it just kept growing. When that fire alarm went off, that's when I said to myself, and I remember the words, this isn't good, that's when I said to myself,

this, and I remember the words, this isn't good, this is not gonna be good, this is bad. It went from zero to 10 in what seemed like a second, and then the buildings completely engulfed. We have a mass casualty incident here. Multiple people trapped. We've been dragging them out on my way. That's the power line!

That's the power line! We have fully engulfed, fully engulfed buildings. We have people on fire inside. There are a lot of walking women. Literally laid there, said, God, just take care of my family because I knew I was going to die. 100 lives were taken. More than 200 people were hurt. It's hard to describe the level of agony.

The state of Rhode Island is small. And it feels like somebody knew somebody who was in that fire or knew somebody who did and so the pain is very personal. We realize there's very little we can say that will provide comfort to the thousands. No one meant for this to happen. Brothers Jeffrey and Michael Dadarian, co-owners of the club, are both charged with involuntary manslaughter. What is your reaction to the indictment? Taking responsibility for your actions goes a long way.

And you don't feel the brothers have ever accepted responsibility. True. People who were key to understanding this tragedy had remained silent. Why are you sitting here talking to me? I think we're sitting here talking to you because we wanted the full story to come out and that for people who want to

come to their own conclusion on what happened that night. Thank you. Hopped out of bed, grabbed my clothes, grabbed my keys, hopped in the car and took off. On February 20, 2003, at about 11.10 p.m., Jody King got a call that something was going on at the station nightclub in West Warwick, Rhode Island. But he didn't know what. I got to find Trace. He was worried about his brother Tracy, who worked there as a bouncer. As I went by the fire station, fire trucks are coming out.

Now the question in my head is, why are all these fire trucks leaving? When Jody arrived, he saw the devastating scene. I see the horror, and it was ugly. The roof was caving in, walls were caving in, body after body in front of me. I don't even like to talk about it. It would become one of the deadliest fires in a club in U.S. history. It should not have happened. It was completely preventable.

Scott James has written a book about the tragedy called Trial by Fire. I decided I would just start asking some questions. Describe the station nightclub for me. What kind of club was this? It was a typical kind of roadside dive. These are videos from prior performances taken inside the club. It smelled like spilled beer and stale cigarettes and everything was just a little bit frayed at the edge but it's fun. The night of the fire hundreds of people gathered at the station to see Great White, an 80s band now with some new members. Led by singer Jack Russell, known mainly for their hit Once Bitten, Twice Shot.

They had their moment and they played the arenas. That was in like the 80s. But, you know, they have a following to this day. Were you a fan of the band, Great White? Yes, definitely. Linda Saran was a regular at the station. That evening, she had a girls' night out with a friend while her young daughter was at a sleepover. The night of the fire, I got in for free. I was asked to work the merch table for the band, so I was getting 40 bucks and two t-shirts. And I was paying staff pricing for beer. Because I knew a guy. Also there that night was Bates College student Phil Barr, who was home for winter break. You know, just have a beer, see a guy. Also there that night was Bates College student Phil Barr,

who was home for winter break. You know, just have a beer, see a concert. Phil, who was in his junior year, had dreams of a career on Wall Street and swam competitively for his college swim team. I loved it. It was really everything to me at that time. Unlike many of the patrons there, this was Phil's first time at the club. He arrived early, around 8.30 p.m. There really weren't that many people around early in the night,

so I actually got a really good sense of the layout of the venue. When people arrived, they walked through this entrance and this kind of longish hallway. You'd see on your left a horseshoe-shaped bar. This was the main bar where you could get your drinks. To the right was this much larger space in front of a stage. You have four exits. There's an exit near the stage. We have an exit through the kitchen, one near the bar, and then the main exit, that hallway where everybody came through. The station was owned by brothers Michael and Jeff Dederian. They're speaking out about the fire for the first time. Their story starts three years before the fire.

Either of you know anything about running a nightclub? Zero. Couldn't play an instrument. The Dederians bought the club as an investment. Jeffrey was responsible for all the marketing activities, and I was responsible kind of for the day-to-day. Both the brothers had other jobs. Michael owned a financial services business. We're live in Wakefield tonight. I'm Jeff Dadarian.

Jeff was a local news reporter. Every time. For years, he'd worked in Boston for Channel 7. We're live in Attleboro this morning. I'm Jeff DadarianAdrien. At the time of the fire, he had just started a new job closer to home in Providence at the local CBS station. That night, he allowed a cameraman to shoot footage inside the club for an upcoming story about safety in public venues. How ironic is that? It's not unbelievable. Right? Right? 48 Hours is not showing any of that footage, but that night, leading the cameraman around was bouncer Tracy King, a dedicated husband and father of three young boys.

He was gregarious. He was out there, and he just loved being in the center. Tracy liked to entertain people with his unique talent. A surgery to correct a childhood ailment with his ears left him able to balance objects on his chin. Tracy King, ladies and gentlemen. He went on David Letterman twice to do stupid human tricks. You're going to balance it on your chin. Yes.

All right. When he walked into a room, if there wasn't a smile, he'd start balancing stuff to get you uplifted and smiling. That was his gift. Jody says his brother enjoyed working for the Darians. They were friends. He trusted the club. He trusted the club. He trusted the owners. He trusted in his friends.

Were you making money? Not really. The Dadarians say despite their love for the club, the business had peaked. And they were in the process of selling it. The club was sold. The club was sold. It was already in contract. Purchase and sale had been signed. But their plans for the future would suddenly change.

As Great White started their first song, their tour manager, Daniel Beakley, set off four large fireworks called gerbs. They are what they call 15 by 15. They go for 15 seconds and they go 15 feet into the air. So it was not a great decision to use these inside a nightclub that only has 12 foot ceilings. Seconds later, flames appeared on the back wall. Most of the crowd thought it was part of the show and didn't move. You know, people didn't react instantly. But Jeff, who was helping out at the bar, says he and an employee tried to get to the stage with a fire extinguisher.

We tried to get as far as we could. We couldn't make it. About 40 seconds after the song began, Great White stopped the show, and all but one member of the band escaped through the stage door exit. That exit door would soon be engulfed in flames. The fire alarm, you hear it kick in, and that's when the crowd realizes this is a real danger,

and we have got to get out of there. Hundreds of people ran to the only exit many of them knew, the way they came in. It's like a riptide. It's a surge of bodies. The fire was now out of control. It had spread along the foam that lined the walls and ceiling, intended to dampen sound. The foam was raining down, and the flames are dripping from the ceiling. Looked like it was raining black fire.

They only have about 60 seconds to get out of that building if they're going to live. Have you ever wondered who created that bottle of sriracha that's living in your fridge? Or why nearly every house in America has at least one game of Monopoly? Introducing The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast from Wondery and T-Boy about the surprising origin stories of the products you're obsessed with and the bold risk-takers who brought them to life. Like, did you know that Super Mario, the best-selling video game character of all time, only exists because Nintendo couldn't get the rights to Popeye? Or Jack, that the idea for the McDonald's Happy Meal first came from a mom in Guatemala? From Pez dispensers to Levi's 501s

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to the brink of extinction. Listen to the Pitcairn Trials exclusively on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. This is what the station fire looked like about 15 minutes after it began. Those who were trapped inside when the flames started knew they needed to get out fast. I remember the smoke descended really quickly. One of those people was Phil Barr.

We kind of crouched down behind some of the people in front of us. You could not see your hand in front of your face. That's how thick the smoke was. Once you could no longer see, it was total pandemonium.

Phil was located between the stage and the front door. A lot of people moved back towards the main entrance. It became really clear that we were not going to be able to get out the front door. Since I had been there earlier in the night, I knew that there was at least an exit in the back bar room. That is the furthest exit away from the stage, but it's a relatively straight line. I went around the people trying to push to the front door into the main bar room. I remember getting pushed from behind, and I tripped over what I assumed was a bar stool,

and I just kind of went down on my face. It became very, very hard to breathe. Lying on the floor not far from the Horseshoe Bar, Phil lost consciousness. The bar got quiet because people were dying, literally. The bar got quiet because people were dying, literally. And all you could hear was the roar of the fire and liquor bottles exploding. Linda Saran and her friend Deb were in the atrium, huddled together under a table. I said, you know what? We're running out of time.

And I knew the window was to my left. So I said to Deb, stay here, I'll be right back. And I stood up, I went over, put my hands against the glass, and I started kicking at that window. And it wouldn't break. I went and laid down next to Deb and just waited to die. Did you have enough time to form those complete thoughts? Yes.

I thought how terrible it was that my daughter was going to grow up without her mom. And I heard, and out Deb went. It was like, what? And then outside I went, cold air washing over me. An off-duty police officer standing outside had heard her kicking at the window. He got a tire iron from his car, smashed the glass, and started pulling people out. When I first went out the window, I landed on the stairs. I couldn't get up, and I said, my hands won't work.

And that's when I noticed the black on my arms. It looked like a ladder of those black jelly bracelets from the 80s hanging in rings around my wrists. And I took a good look, and said, oh, I'm burned. I couldn't hear alarms. I couldn't hear noise. I couldn't hear screaming anymore. Phil Barr says when he came to, he felt excruciating pain near the base of his spine and burning on his face. I don't like to talk about it, but I remember feeling weight on top of me,

and I'm pretty sure I crawled out from under another person to pull myself up. I ran across the room, and I ran face first into the wall. And I felt the door, and I just heaved my shoulder into it. And I fell down the stairs out that door. Phil was now outside, but he felt like his lungs were on fire. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. I could feel tightness and constriction in my chest. Some bleeding I could notice in my throat. Also outside was club owner Jeff Dadarian.

He says he managed to escape through the front door before a stampede of people got stuck in the narrow hallway and blocked the exit. I remember we were trying to get people away from the building, like, get away from the building. It was happening so fast. Fast, fast, fast. That's all I just can keep seeing in my head. And the roof and just everything just... passed too fast. Jeff called his brother Michael

Who was in Florida He's completely out of it Out of it I couldn't understand him Or understand the magnitude Of what was going on there And I'm saying to him did everybody get out Did anybody die you know

And he's like he don't know He's like he don't know He don't know Doesn He's like, he don't know. He don't know. Doesn't know. Anybody see Tracy? I have to find him. At the scene, Jody King was desperate for information about his brother and began to fear the worst.

I spent the next five or six hours going back and forth in the parking lot, talking to firemen, asking firemen, can you please pull the sheets back for me? I don't care what I'm going to see. Linda Saran and Phil Barr, badly injured, were transported to a local hospital. We have 39 confirmed fatalities. We're still in the process of searching the rubble. It is now well over 50. We're now at 65. of searching the rubble. It is now well over 50. We're now at 65.

Then it may be higher. Can you come in? They want to talk to you. And I'm like, okay. The night of the fire, Jeff gave a statement to the local police and another one to an investigator with the Attorney General's office. Remember, I'm still in Florida. Michael also spoke via phone to an investigator. Do you feel, oh my goodness, we're in trouble? Remember, I'm still in Florida. Michael also spoke via phone to an investigator.

Do you feel, oh my goodness, we're in trouble? No. No. No. Why? Because in my mind, I had nothing to hide. If I had nothing to hide, then why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you talk to them and tell them what you knew or what you didn't know? Three days after the station fire, Jody King finally got the news that his brother Tracy's body had been found.

In the months and years that followed, Jody also learned about Tracy's heroic last moments. He ran in and came out nine times in 90 seconds. How do you know that he went in nine times? Nine different families have come up to me and said, thank you for having a great brother. He threw my wife, my cousin, my uncle, my sister out a window. my sister out a window. What a great brother you have. You should be proud. I am proud. In the days after the fire, victims' families and survivors faced a harsh new reality. Phil Barr awoke after three weeks in a medically induced coma and was told his lungs had been badly damaged.

When you come to, you're in a hospital room. Yep. My dad was in the room. I can't speak. Everything was sore and hoarse. I picked up the pen and in very weak, you know, kind of handwriting, I wrote, I hope to make progress every day. Where'd that come from?

Don't know. True to his words, Phil fought to breathe on his own. And then, ever so slowly, he learned to walk again. But even more than walking, Phil wanted to return to swimming. I asked my pulmonologist, you know, when can I get back in the pool? He was very kind about it, but he said, I don't ever see you competitively swimming again. I refused to accept that as the outcome.

About a month after the fire, Phil went home from the hospital. In the following year, he was able to accomplish the impossible and rejoin his swim team. He had an unlikely friend rooting for him. I want to ask you about Phil Barr. How'd you meet him? My hospital roommate, he and I took turns driving the respiratory therapist crazy. In some ways, it's almost like being in war together. Like, you feel that kinship, that, you know, God, I really hope this guy makes it, and yet, at the point in time, I don't even think I knew his name. yet at the point in time, I don't even think I knew his name.

Like Phil, Linda had also spent three weeks in a medically induced coma. Second and third degree burns over 34% of my body from the heat. I literally baked alive. Then as it heals, the scarring tightens up. So before I knew it, this finger was contractured down in this position, and the rest of them were all bent backwards because the skin had tightened up. So the only way to pick up a can of soda would be to do this. I had no control over my muscles.

And that's when it starts to hit you, all that you've lost. And that's when the despair sinks in. That's when you make a decision. Am I going to sit here and cry about this? My friends were dead. My other friends are severely injured. I no longer look like myself, but I made a choice. I'm going to do this. Linda was one of the more than 200 who were seriously hurt in the fire.

A staggering hundred lives were lost. Almost immediately, the finger-pointing started. Rocking was supposed to be fun, not deadly, you know? The morning after the fire, the lead singer of Great White, Jack Russell, claimed the brothers had given the band permission to set off the fireworks. We never do anything without asking permission first. No permission was ever requested by the band or any of its agents to use pyrotechnics at the station and no permission was ever given. The

following day the brothers responded at a press conference. Many people didn't make it out and that is a horror that will haunt my family and I for the rest of our lives. We have an investigation ongoing, and we need help. We need answers, and I'm trying to get them. Rhode Island Attorney General Patrick Lynch opened an investigation and convened a grand jury to determine if anyone should face criminal charges. Certainly there are people that we're looking at. Ultimately, we may target. Now in private practice, Lynch says he looked into a host of people.

I don't think anybody, in anything that they did, wanted anybody to die that night or get injured. But does that mean it's not a crime? The answer is no. One of the angles Lynch investigated was the Dadarian brothers. They were running the operation. They promoted the event. So it was very quickly, they were in the circle of people we should look at.

Over the course of the investigation, what did you learn about the way the brothers ran their business? Looking back on it, I would say they ran it as a side business, an attempt to maybe make some extra money, with a callous, utter disregard for those that work there and assemble there. The biggest question was, why had the fire spread so quickly? To satisfy noise complaints from neighbors, the brothers had installed foam

along the club's walls and ceilings. As it turns out, the foam they used was highly flammable. The type of foam was equal to gallons of gasoline. It was liquid fire. Who's responsible for that foam going up on the wall? Jeffrey and Michael Dadarian. Lynch also points out that the exits were a safety issue. Inspection records showed that just three months before the fire, the Duderians had been cited by the local fire marshal

for having a secondary interior door by the stage that opened inward, which violated regulations. They were told to take it down, but the night of the fire, it was up to help cut down the noise. Not only was the door up, which it shouldn't have been, opened inward, which it shouldn't have, it was covered in foam, it was also on fire. That door being up, there is no question that that increased the likelihood

that many, many more would perish. In December 2003, nine months after the fire, Jeff and Michael Dadarian were in court, each charged with 200 counts of involuntary manslaughter. How do you rate it? I plead not guilty, Your Honor.

A hundred for criminal negligence and a hundred for misdemeanor manslaughter. Not guilty, Your Honor. Great White's tour manager, Daniel Beakley, also faced the same charges. He had failed to get a license for the pyrotechnics from the state of Rhode Island and permits from the local fire department.

They blamed three. They should have blamed more. There are other people who should be responsible. by an actual murder. Listen to Candyman, the true story behind the bathroom mirror murder, early and ad-free, with a 48-hour plus subscription on Apple Podcasts.

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I'm Marsha Clark, host of the new podcast, Informants Lawyer X. In my long career in criminal justice as a prosecutor and defense attorney, I've seen some crazy cases, and this one belongs right at the top of the list. She was addicted to the game she had created. She just didn't know how to stop. Now, through dramatic interviews and access, I'll reveal the truth behind one of the world's most shocking legal scandals. Listen to Informant's Lawyer X exclusively on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify, and listen to more Exhibit C true crime shows early and ad-free right now. In February of 2006, three years after this station nightclub burned down,

many in Rhode Island were shocked to learn that instead of a trial, a plea deal had been reached with Daniel Beakley, the tour manager for the band Great White. DANIEL BEAKLEY, I don't know that I will ever forgive myself for what happened that night. So I can't expect anybody else to. PAUL SOLMAN, Beakley pled guilty to 100 counts of misdemeanor manslaughter and was sentenced to four years in prison. He was granted parole and then released after 22 months. There is so much pain and heartache that happened on our doorstep. Michael and Jeff Duderian pled no contest to 100 counts of misdemeanor manslaughter and agreed to a deal.

There's so many things that factor into the decision to do that. It would have been horrific to have people go through this. And then we've got the pressure from the judge saying that, you know, you're going to go to jail for 30 years apiece. The brothers' plea deal stated only one of them would go to prison. The brothers decided that because Jeff had young kids, Michael would go. He spent 33 months in prison, while Jeff had to do 500 hours of community service. We never knew the whole story because the trial never happened.

So everything really never came out. There are so many people still to this day angry that the case didn't go to trial. Do you understand that anger? We do understand that anger, and that's why we're here with you. And now, 18 years after the fire, the brothers say they want to set the record straight

and reveal new information. If you have a message that you want the people of Rhode Island to hear, there were plenty of ways to get it out long before now. I don't know about that. I don't know. First of all, I don't know how you would, how would you accomplish the detail and the amount of new information

in a news conference or, you know, a commercial or something that we would try and do on our own. or, you know, a commercial or something that we would try and do on our own. For the Dadarians, the full story begins with the issue of permission. The brothers have always maintained that they never gave the band permission to use pyrotechnics. Was there a contract? Yes. Did the contract specify the use of pyrotechnics?

Did not. These contracts are pretty specific, so I would think that the pyrotechnic provision would be in there, just like we need to have, you know, 12 M&Ms, I mean, you know, and they need to be proud. According to author Scott James, Great White had reportedly used a large pyro display without permission at other clubs, including just days before the fire at a show in New Jersey. And the nightclub operator there was so angry when he saw

what had happened in Rhode Island, he went public and he even made public the contract that he had with Great White that showed there was no evidence of fireworks that were going to be part of the show. Then there's that interior inward inward-swinging door by the stage that former Attorney General Patrick Lynch says was responsible for loss of life the night of the fire. I don't think there's any question that had that door not been up, a significant number of people would have survived. That door was meant to block the noise from the

neighbors. And so when the fire inspector came in and said that that door had to come down, the door did come down. But then the door would go back up when it was going to be a loud night. It didn't have a lock on it. There was nothing that would make it so you couldn't get out of it. And according to the brothers, it was one of the first exits used when the fire started. That door was opened immediately, and that's where the band went out. But that door became impassable almost within seconds, because clearly there's foam that's burning at 1,800 or 1,500 degrees. And then it just got engulfed in fire.

Correct. You weren't approaching that area at all. And then there's the foam. The fire spread so quickly because rather than fire-retardant sound foam, on the wall of the club was highly flammable packing foam. That is correct. Undisputable. The brothers sent a fax to the foam company specifically asking for sound foam. But what they received was highly flammable packing foam. The brothers say, wait a minute, we ordered sound foam.

How is it our responsibility if they gave us the wrong phone? First of all, I think it's pathetic, disgusting, and unsettling to think that they're even speaking now. The phone that they put up had a direct impact on the survivability of the bulk of the people that were assembled that night. The Dadarians say that in the three years they owned the club, no one ever questioned the safety of the phone. And they're quick to point out the club was inspected by their insurance company and multiple times by the local fire marshal, Dennis LaRock.

He finds the deficiencies, you have to correct the deficiencies, and then signs off so that you can get your liquor license. That happened in 2000, That happened in 2001. And that happened in 2002. The brothers have since learned that the fire marshal should have tested the foam on the wall. The field test is crystal clear. You take one square inch of the foam. You hold it up with a roach clip

and light it on fire with a wooden match. That's what the code says. That specific. Did he what the code says. That specific. Did he do that? Zero. None of the inspections and then follow-up inspections. If he had done that, then he would have obviously have said to us, Take this stuff down. This is solid gasoline. This is flammable. You can't have this.

When LaRock testified before the grand jury, he claimed he never saw the foam. The brothers, however, find that hard to believe, considering the foam covered the wall, ceiling, and even the inward swinging door he cited as a violation. Did he do his job perfectly? Absolutely not. According to Lynch, under Rhode Island law, the fire marshal could not be criminally charged unless there was evidence of bad faith or malice. While troubling, while concerning, maddening,

it doesn't mean that somebody should be charged or can be. If the brothers are relying on the fire marshal to tell them whether or not they can continue to do business, and he says you can, isn't that an important fact in determining who's at fault? Again, any reference in this conversation about what the brothers say, I take a step back and think, I don't really trust it. But many, including the brothers, feel strongly LaRock should also have been charged.

Why is it okay that the fire marshal is allowed to miss something or make a mistake? And what he did was just an oops. But what we did was criminal. And why wasn't the foam company charged? The brothers say there was evidence that the grand jury never heard. What do you think about the Derderian brothers speaking out now? Two years after the fire at the station nightclub, the Dadarians learned about a piece of evidence

they say is important that was never presented to the grand jury. This eight-page fax sent to the Attorney General's office anonymously just months after the fire entitled, The Fire, The Foam. They got this fax and it went on to describe the business practices of the foam company. Investigators eventually discovered the fax was sent by Barry Warner, a former employee at American Foam, the company that had sent the Dadarians the packing foam made of flammable polyurethane. Warner lived next to the station and had met the brothers.

He writes up this long, almost a manifesto about all the things that he thinks are wrong in that foam company that led to this tragedy. He wrote, this is a company that is well aware of the dangers of polyurethane foam. This is a company that did little to educate

their employees about the limits of polyurethane foam. In fact, they did the opposite. When the foam came, was there anything on the packaging that indicated that it was highly flammable? Zero. No, nothing. But when Warner was called before the grand jury, he was not asked about the allegations he made in the fax. They didn't even bring up the fax to him. They

didn't even let him talk about it. Mr. Warner's fax wasn't presented to the grand jury, correct? I can't remember, honestly. Why wouldn't it be? You're telling me it wasn't, and I don't know that it wasn't. 48 Hours has confirmed the fax was not presented to the grand jury. Regardless, Lynch points out that Duderian still chose to take a plea deal instead of going to trial. The defendant has every right to go to trial and say, hey, if it's this mysterious fax that's trying to be referenced today, 18 years later, If it's this mysterious fax that's trying to be referenced today, 18 years later, hey, this is important.

American phone said Warner's claims about the company are false. And while they weren't charged in the criminal case, survivors and victims' families sued them in civil court for not warning the Dadarians the phone they sent them was flammable. The company paid a hefty settlement. and they weren't the only ones. At least 64 others were also sued, including the state of Rhode Island, cited for the fire inspector's failure to report the flammable foam during multiple inspections. In the end, the survivors' and victims' families settled for a total of $176 million. Great White was part of the lawsuit and settled for $1 million.

Jack Russell declined our request for an interview. Eighteen years later, there is no consensus among survivors when it comes to blame. Linda still places much of it on the Dadarian brothers. They have said they were sorry, but never once do they say, we screwed up. If they stood up and said, small business owners, we were inexperienced, we took shortcuts, we screwed up, I would forgive them in a heartbeat. We were inexperienced. We took shortcuts. We screwed up.

I would forgive them in a heartbeat. To people who feel that the two of you have never said, we own this, what do you say? We say that we're sorry for all of it, and if we could change it, we would. You know, a day doesn't go by that we don't think about it in some way, shape, or form. So to the people who think we don't own it, I'm telling you, we do own it. OK?

We own it. Every day. We own it every day. Does that mean you feel a sense of responsibility? We feel a sense of guilt about what happened in the sense that you carry the guilt of knowing that these people aren't here anymore and these people are hurt for the rest of their life. There isn't a guilt in terms of, like, that we knowingly did this or, you know, caused it,

but there's a guilt of that we... It happened on our watch. It happened on our watch. As a human being, how do you not feel some sort of responsibility for that? I could have missed it all. I could have missed my daughter's high school graduation, the birth of her children.

I could have missed that. My friends that didn't survive that night have missed that. Linda will forever wear the scars of that horrible night, but she refuses to live in the past. I think a lot of people miss out on the moments. Not you. No, not anymore. Being a survivor of the station nightclub fire is a piece of who I am.

It fuels you. Ready, set, here we go! Today, Phil is married and a father of two little girls. Getting another opportunity to live my life came with enormous responsibility. It's not just about hitting the next goal, but doing something really meaningful. Because so many people that were there don't have that opportunity. In 2017, a memorial was opened to honor the 100 innocent lives that were tragically lost in the station fire, including Tracy King, who died saving so many others.

I'm so proud to say he's my brother. Hey, Trace. That's my buddy. My parents taught us a lot, a lot of things. One of them is never say die, never give up. Miss you, Tracy. Tracy died... never giving up. I'm Nora O'Donnell in our nation's capital.

We're here at the White House with the President of the United States. Thanks for having me. Our exclusive access to the presidential platform. We will witness yet another moment in history. The CBS Evening News with Nora O'Donnell from Washington, D.C. with Nora O'Donnell from Washington, D.C.