Washington paper mill tank rupture kills 11; nine still missing

On Tuesday morning at the Nippon Dynawave Packaging mill in Longview, Washington, a massive chemical tank buckled and ruptured, releasing nearly a million gallons of white liquor—a caustic mixture of sodium hydroxide and sodium sulfide used to break down wood fiber in paper manufacturing. The disaster killed at least eleven people, with nine still unaccounted for and presumed dead. Eight others were injured, including a firefighter. By Wednesday, authorities had abandoned hope of finding survivors.

The tank held approximately 900,000 gallons of the volatile liquid when it failed. The rupture caused the enormous circular vessel to buckle on one side, and roughly 90,000 gallons of the chemical remained sloshing inside the damaged structure. The spill flowed into drainage ditches surrounding the sprawling plant, which sits along the Columbia River in a region long defined by timber, paper, and chemical manufacturing. The facility employs about 1,000 workers and produces material for tissues, printing paper, cups, plates, and cartons—the kind of industrial backbone that quietly sustains commerce across the Pacific Northwest.

Search and rescue operations were hampered by the very danger that caused the disaster. Officials feared the weakened tank might collapse further, releasing more of the caustic chemical and endangering the crews trying to locate the missing. Crews were permitted to work only during daylight hours because of the hazards. Fire Chief Scott Goldstein faced an immediate puzzle: stabilize the tank first, or remove the remaining product? The answer would determine how quickly they could search for the nine people who had vanished in the rupture.

The human toll began to emerge in fragments. Gilbert Bernal, an electrician at the plant, was confirmed as the first death. His friend Todd Cornwell knew him through church, where they attended Bible study together. "He was always there willing to help in whatever needed to be done," Cornwell said. When the local church school flooded, Bernal had been among those who showed up to help. The second confirmed death came Wednesday, but authorities had not yet released names of those still missing. Crystal Moldenhauer, a Longview resident, said friends at the plant remained unaccounted for. "We're all still waiting for answers," she said. "There's families that have been torn apart, and we don't know why."

Longview, a city of about 40,000 people, is the kind of place where industrial work runs through the community like a river. Brian Williquette, a chemical supplier who serves the region's mills, was at the plant Tuesday morning when an alarm sounded over the intercom. He escaped safely but saw none of the damage. "It's just unfathomable," he said at a community vigil that night. "There's not anybody that lives here that doesn't know somebody at a paper mill." The disaster rippled through the town as people called and texted each other all day, trying to piece together what had happened.

Authorities moved quickly to assess environmental impact. The state Ecology Department confirmed that the rupture had not contaminated Longview's air or drinking water, though residents were warned to avoid ditches and dikes where the chemical had pooled. The cause of the rupture remained unknown, but the timing raised questions about oversight. Safety complaints had been filed against Nippon Dynawave in March and May—one involving a valve on a tank, though state labor officials said neither complaint was related to the tank that failed. Since 2021, the company had been fined $3,400 for three separate health and safety violations. Nippon Paper Group, the Japan-based parent company, issued a statement offering "deepest condolences and heartfelt sympathies to the bereaved families," but offered no explanation for how the tank had failed or what might prevent such a disaster in the future.

The rupture was the second major chemical incident on the West Coast in days. Southern California had evacuated thousands of residents earlier in the week due to an overheated tank at an aerospace plant before those orders were lifted. But Longview's disaster was different—it was not a near-miss. It was a catastrophe unfolding in real time, with nine people still missing and crews searching a hazardous site with no expectation of finding them alive. The question now was not whether more people would die, but why the tank had failed, and whether the industrial infrastructure that sustained the region could be trusted.