On Jan. 28, 1986, the shuttle Challenger was lost in the skies of Florida, breaking up some 73 seconds after an 11:38 a.m. EST (1638 GMT) liftoff from pad 39B.
Then, the flow of information stopped almost immediately. As NASA TV aimed a camera out at the ocean and kept that view for what seemed like hours, doors inside the Kennedy Space Center press site to certain offices, including the room where you can pick up photos and videotape, literally were closed in our faces and locked.
NASA spokesmen could offer nothing, essentially said nothing and in some cases also retreated to their offices to hide behind locked doors.
At the time, I was the space technology editor for the Avion, the student newspaper of Embry Riddle Aeronautical University. One sight I'll never forget was three of the women working at the Challenger press site just standing there, arms crossed, shocked, unable to move as the phones rang off their hooks around them.
Nearly seven hours later the space agency trotted out Jesse Moore, then NASA's spaceflight associate administrator, for the first press conference. He confirmed the shuttle and crew were lost but offered no discussion about what might have happened, even though history has since proved the evidence of a leaking solid rocket booster already was available.
During the coming months it was still difficult to get information. Media had to file lawsuits to gain certain types of information, officials were unavailable for interviews, no discussion of the recovered debris was allowed and talk of the status of any crew remains by any NASA public affairs was career limiting.
To get a decent story it took every news media tactic in the book, from hanging out at bars to ambushing people at their homes to even trying to sneak into people's offices.
NASA's image suffered, not only from the incident itself, but because it was perceived as a federal agency on the run, a true and fully developed government bureaucracy that couldn't be trusted.
As part of the return to flight effort two years later, NASA public affairs had regrouped, the agency had some new managers, and a new crisis plan was adopted that called for delivering more information to the public in a timely manner.
The plan was and has been tested each year during simulated countdowns that result in a disaster of some kind. I remember a former NASA spokesman telling me that the first time they tried the plan, they wanted to get a senior manager over to the press site within an hour of the incident to hold the first press conference.
The only problem was that the minute a contingency was declared the doors to the firing room were closed and locked so no one could get out with any potentially critical data -- so this official was locked in a room. And then when that problem was resolved, it was discovered they couldn't get the official to the press site using a car and had to walk him over, which is something of a short hike.
And that brings us to this past Saturday -- the details of which are still something of a blur to me.
But it was within about three hours or so that NASA Administrator Sean O'Keefe and spaceflight chief Bill Readdy showed up at the press site, in person, to offer the first statements. Although they didn't take any questions, they were quick to point out that a briefing by shuttle program manager Ron Dittemore would be held later in the day.
Then as we all went about our respective jobs, I started hearing the voices of the crew and was momentarily startled. NASA TV was replaying pre-flight interview excerpts and highlights from the mission. And if that video wasn't on, the formal crew portrait was displayed. The openness was continuing.
Later that day, about 10 hours after the disaster, Dittemore and chief flight director Milt Heflin appeared before the press in Houston and told us everything they knew about the initial loss of the vessel, even if they didn't know what it meant. They assured the media that they would continue to be open -- and that the story would change from day to day as they learned more information.
As I write this five days after the loss of Columbia, NASA is delivering on that promise.
The information is flowing as fast as it can. We're still asking questions NASA can't answer yet, and in some cases won't.
If there's a downside to this development, it is that in this age of instant news, the littlest fact, the latest theories are being turned into breaking news headlines well before NASA can properly explain, downplay or out-and-out refute the claims.
A good example is the "internal memo" that NBC news touted on the morning news Monday.
The memo showed Columbia's tiles may have been damaged in an area of some 7 inches wide by 30 inches long by a piece of foam insulation that broke loose from the shuttle's external tank on launch. NASA had been talking about this since the day before the attempted landing.
For several hours news of the "internal memo" was played up like some smoking gun until Dittemore calmly took the stage and explained where the information came from and how it was arrived at.
Dittemore then released all of the so-called "Mission Evaluation Reports" to the media, and somehow the urgency of the "internal memo" was lost. However, the air of cover-up and conspiracy still remains due to televisions excitable and instant delivery, especially so soon after the incident.
Still, there is a healthy mistrust between the news media and the government -- and that's as it should be.
But at present, the fair and objective facts are these: NASA is being more open than ever before. If they can continue to do so, they will help themselves and the nation to heal this wound that much faster, and find that much more public support not if, but when shuttle flights resume.
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