<v Speaker 1>I'm Jerry Broadway, and this is Anonymous America where we

<v Speaker 1>dive a little deeper into American history to find those

<v Speaker 1>heroes that did amazing things and then slipped through the

<v Speaker 1>cracks of time. You know, New York City, like any

<v Speaker 1>city in America, runs on a set of unwritten rules.

<v Speaker 1>Don't block the sidewalk, don't make eye contact on the subway,

<v Speaker 1>mind your own business. And when it comes to the subway,

<v Speaker 1>there's one rule that stands above all the others. It's

<v Speaker 1>drilled into every New Yorker from childhood. It's posted on

<v Speaker 1>every platform. It's repeated like scripture. Whatever happens, whatever you see,

<v Speaker 1>whatever you hear, you do not, under any circumstances go

<v Speaker 1>onto the tracks. On the second day of January in

<v Speaker 1>two thousand and seven, a fifty year old construction worker

<v Speaker 1>broke that rule right in front of his own children,

<v Speaker 1>and in doing so, he compressed everything that's noble about

<v Speaker 1>ordinary people into five seconds of decision making, five seconds

<v Speaker 1>that ended with a subway train passing over his body.

<v Speaker 1>His name is Wesley Autrey. New York called him a

<v Speaker 1>hero for a while, then they forgot his name. But

<v Speaker 1>there are at least two people who will never forget.

<v Speaker 1>Let me tell you about the longest five seconds of

<v Speaker 1>either of their lives from Hey Dad Productions. This is

<v Speaker 1>Anonymous America. It's early afternoon, January second, two thousand and

<v Speaker 1>seven at the one hundred and thirty seventh Street City

<v Speaker 1>College subway station up in Harlem. Wesley Autrey, who is

<v Speaker 1>a fifty year old construction worker and a Navy vet,

<v Speaker 1>is standing on the platform with his two daughters, ages

<v Speaker 1>four and six. He's taking them home so we can

<v Speaker 1>go to work. A few feet away, there's a twenty

<v Speaker 1>year old film student named Cameron Halopiter, just another face

<v Speaker 1>on the platform, one of those guys that New Yorkers

<v Speaker 1>are trained not to make eye contact with. Then Cameron

<v Speaker 1>Halopiter collapsed out of nowhere. He had a seizure and

<v Speaker 1>began convulsing right there on the platform. Wesley and two

<v Speaker 1>other women rushed over to help, and for a moment

<v Speaker 1>it seemed like everything was going to be okay. Halopiter

<v Speaker 1>managed to get back to his feet, but then he

<v Speaker 1>stumbled and he fell off the edge of the platform

<v Speaker 1>and landed on the tracks, and at that exact moment,

<v Speaker 1>the subway tunnel filled with light. The headlights of the

<v Speaker 1>number one train coming in. Now freeze it right there,

<v Speaker 1>because this is where the story really happens. Wes Lee

<v Speaker 1>Audrey has his two little girls standing next to him,

<v Speaker 1>He has a stranger convulsing on the tracks below, and

<v Speaker 1>a train bearing down, and he has seconds, non minutes,

<v Speaker 1>seconds to run the math. His conclusion, well, there's no

<v Speaker 1>time to lift a grown man in the middle of

<v Speaker 1>a seizure up and over the platform edge. That's not

<v Speaker 1>going to work. Anyone could see that that option was

<v Speaker 1>gone before it started. But wes Lee Autrey knew something

<v Speaker 1>that most people on that platform didn't know. You see,

<v Speaker 1>he'd worked construct sites around tracks, and he knew that

<v Speaker 1>between the rails there's a drainage trough. It's a shallow trench,

<v Speaker 1>maybe a foot or so deep. It is not designed

<v Speaker 1>for this, it is not rated for this, but it

<v Speaker 1>is there. And so he ran the most extraordinary calculation

<v Speaker 1>of his life. If I can get him into that

<v Speaker 1>trough and hold him flat, and the train's clearance is

<v Speaker 1>what I think it is, we might both fit. Maybe.

<v Speaker 1>So he turned the two women on the platform and

<v Speaker 1>left his daughters in their care. A father's whole world

<v Speaker 1>passed the strangers in half a breath, and then Wesley

<v Speaker 1>Autrey jumped down onto the tracks in front of an

<v Speaker 1>oncoming New York City subway train. He pulled Halopoter into

<v Speaker 1>the trough, but the young man was still in the

<v Speaker 1>throes of a seizure. He was fighting, he was panicked,

<v Speaker 1>he was thrashing, he was trying to get up, and

<v Speaker 1>the train is closing in. So Audrey did the only

<v Speaker 1>thing he could think of. He pressed him down into

<v Speaker 1>that trench, pinned his arms and legs, and laid his

<v Speaker 1>own body flat on top of the stranger. He became

<v Speaker 1>a human shield, holding another human being against the bottom

<v Speaker 1>of a drainage ditch. Now the subway operators saw both

<v Speaker 1>of them and through the brakes, but physics doesn't negotiate

<v Speaker 1>with subway trains. There was no chance to stop it

<v Speaker 1>in time. The train passed right over the two of

<v Speaker 1>them before it finally came to a halt. The clearance

<v Speaker 1>was so tight that the undercarriage of the subway train

<v Speaker 1>left grease on Wesley's nit cap. That's the margin we're

<v Speaker 1>talking about, not feet, not inches, the thickness of a

<v Speaker 1>winter hat. And then from underneath the subway train in

<v Speaker 1>the dark with the whole platform screaming. Came Wesley Autrey's voice.

<v Speaker 1>He called out, we're ok down here, and he also said,

<v Speaker 1>I have two daughters up on that platform. Somebody please

<v Speaker 1>let them know that their daddy is fine. And the

<v Speaker 1>platform erupted into applause. Now, Cameron Jilopater was taken to

<v Speaker 1>the hospital. He was shaken, but not seriously hurt. And

<v Speaker 1>Wesley Autrey climbed out of that trench dusted himself off.

<v Speaker 1>And this is my favorite part of the entire story.

<v Speaker 1>To work man had a shift to get to and

<v Speaker 1>if he hurried, he wouldn't be late. Now New York

<v Speaker 1>City doesn't impress easily, but for a few months, Wesley

<v Speaker 1>Autrey was the toast of the town. They called him

<v Speaker 1>the subway Superman, the hero of Harlem. The mayor gave

<v Speaker 1>him the Bronze Medallion, which is New York City's highest

<v Speaker 1>civilian honor. He sat in the gallery at the State

<v Speaker 1>of the Union address while President George W. Bush praised

<v Speaker 1>him to the entire nation. He did all the talk shows,

<v Speaker 1>He got gifts and handshakes and high fives and strangers

<v Speaker 1>everywhere he went, and through it all he just kept

<v Speaker 1>saying the same thing, almost like he was confused by

<v Speaker 1>all the fuss. Wesley didn't feel like he'd done anything special.

<v Speaker 1>He just saw somebody that needed help, and he did

<v Speaker 1>what he thought was right. Well. Spotlight faded, of course,

<v Speaker 1>because spotlights always due, and today most Americans couldn't tell

<v Speaker 1>you his name. The man who lay under a moving

<v Speaker 1>train holding a stranger has just gone back to being

<v Speaker 1>what he was before, an ordinary working dad in New

<v Speaker 1>York City. We tell ourselves that people like this are

<v Speaker 1>built differently, That Heroislom is some rare alloy. The rest

<v Speaker 1>of us just weren't cast from Wesley Autrey. Story says otherwise,

<v Speaker 1>because Wesley Autrey wasn't a superhero. He was a guy

<v Speaker 1>with knowledge from his job, love for his kids, and

<v Speaker 1>a conscience that wouldn't let a stranger die in front

<v Speaker 1>of him. And the entire time between standing on that

<v Speaker 1>platform and jumping off of it was those five seconds,

<v Speaker 1>which means the question isn't whether people like Wesley Autrey exist.

<v Speaker 1>They're standing next to us on the platform every single day.

<v Speaker 1>The question is what would the rest of us do

<v Speaker 1>with our five seconds? One man didn't have to think

<v Speaker 1>about that question he knew the answer before it was

<v Speaker 1>even asked. That man was Wesley Autrey, and that is

<v Speaker 1>anonymous America