He was a really big part of the town
In Longview, Washington — a town whose identity has long been woven into the fabric of industrial labor — a chemical tank rupture at the Nippon Dynawave Packaging paper mill has claimed eleven lives, with three workers still unaccounted for. More than 500,000 gallons of caustic manufacturing chemicals flooded the facility, transforming a place of ordinary livelihood into a site of extraordinary loss. The disaster ranks among the deadliest American workplace accidents in recent memory, a reminder that the machinery sustaining whole communities can, in a single failure, unmake them. Recovery continues, as does the search for answers.
- A catastrophic tank failure at a Longview paper mill killed eleven workers and left three bodies still missing beneath a hazardous chemical wreckage.
- Over half a million gallons of caustic industrial fluid engulfed the facility, injuring eight more people — some with severe burns, others felled by toxic fumes.
- Recovery crews are advancing slowly and deliberately, constrained by ongoing contamination dangers at the site even as families wait for the missing to be found.
- Authorities have confirmed that air quality and drinking water in the surrounding area remain uncontaminated, though some chemical reached the Columbia River and is being actively diluted.
- The cause of the rupture is still unknown, and the investigation is only beginning — leaving a grieving community without explanation as it buries its dead.
Longview, Washington has spent a century shaped by paper mills — generations of families building their lives around shift work at plants like Nippon Dynawave Packaging. On the day a chemical tank ruptured at that facility, something deeper than infrastructure gave way. Eleven workers are dead. Three remain missing.
Recovery crews have retrieved six bodies from the wreckage, moving carefully through a site still laced with danger. The rupture released more than 500,000 gallons of caustic chemical mixture, the kind used in paper manufacturing that demands extreme caution. Fire officials warned the recovery would be slow. The investigation into what caused the failure has barely begun.
Among the dead: Gilbert Bernal, an electrician and grandfather remembered by friends as the kind of man who would give away his own shirt. CJ Doran, 26 and newly married, described by his family as the spiritual center of their home. John Forsberg left two young children. Jared Ammons had two children and another on the way. Braydon Finkas, an electrician who opened his home to exchange students and strangers alike, had become, in the words of a friend, a really big part of the town.
Eight others were injured, including a firefighter. Despite the scale of the spill, authorities confirmed that air and drinking water around Longview showed no contamination. Some chemical reached the Columbia River, but the EPA reported no measurable impact. Crews worked to flush and dilute what remained.
Nippon Paper Group, the Japanese parent company, offered formal condolences. In Longview, friends and families began confirming names and launching fundraisers. Three workers are still missing. The cause remains unknown. The work of recovery — in every sense — goes on.
Longview, Washington, a timber town of 40,000 nestled where the Cowlitz and Columbia rivers meet, has spent a century tied to the rhythms of paper mills. Generations of families have clocked in at the same plants, built their lives around shift work and steady paychecks. On the day a chemical tank ruptured at the Nippon Dynawave Packaging facility, that continuity fractured. Eleven workers are now dead. Three of them remain missing.
Recovery crews have pulled six bodies from the wreckage as of Thursday, working methodically through the hazard zone left behind by the tank failure. The rupture released more than 500,000 gallons of a caustic chemical mixture used in the paper manufacturing process—the kind of industrial fluid that demands respect and distance. Fire officials warned that the work would be slow and deliberate, constrained by the dangers still present in the contaminated site. The investigation into what caused the tank to fail has only just begun.
Gilbert Bernal was an electrician at the plant and a grandfather. His friend Todd Cornwell described him as genuinely good, the kind of man who would give away his own shirt if someone needed it. He was always there, Cornwell said, willing to help with whatever needed doing. CJ Doran was 26 and married. A fundraiser organized by his family called him the spiritual leader of their household, the joy of their home, the one who provided. John Forsberg left behind two young children. Jared Ammons had two children and another on the way. Braydon Finkas was an electrician who, with his longtime partner Kaitlyn Kincaid, opened their home in the nearby town of Cathlamet to exchange students and others in need. Their friend Rex Czuba remembered Finkas as someone who would help cut hay or buy a round of beers for a stranger passing through. He became part of the community so quickly, Czuba said. He was a really big part of the town.
Eight other people were injured in the disaster, including a firefighter. Some suffered severe burns; others inhaled the chemical fumes. The tank failure sent a plume of hazard across the facility and into the surrounding area, but authorities said Thursday that the air and drinking water in and around Longview showed no contamination. Some of the chemical did reach the Columbia River, but the Environmental Protection Agency reported no noticeable effect on the water. Crews were working to flush contaminated ditches and dilute the mixture before pumping it downstream.
Nippon Paper Group, the Japanese parent company that owns the facility, issued a statement offering its deepest condolences and heartfelt sympathies to the bereaved families. The statement was brief, formal, the kind of language corporations use when the scale of loss exceeds the capacity of words. In Longview, friends and relatives of the dead began confirming names and launching fundraisers to support the families left behind. The cause of the rupture remains under investigation. Three workers are still missing, and the work of recovery continues.
Notable Quotes
He was one of the most genuinely good people that you've ever met. He would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.— Todd Cornwell, friend of Gilbert Bernal, an electrician and grandfather killed in the rupture
He was a really big part of the town. He really jumped in and became a part of the community so quickly.— Rex Czuba, friend of Braydon Finkas, an electrician killed in the disaster
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a town like Longview matter in a story like this?
Because the mill isn't separate from the town. It's woven through generations. When eleven people die at once in a place that small, you're not just losing workers—you're losing the electrician who helps with hay, the grandfather who gives his shirt away, the guy who became part of the fabric so fast people can't imagine it without him.
The source mentions the tank spilled 500,000 gallons. Does that number land differently when you know what was in it?
It does. It's not water. It's a chemical mixture designed to break down fiber in paper manufacturing—caustic, destructive. Half a million gallons of something that can burn skin and lungs. That's not an accident that resolves itself. That's a wound that keeps spreading.
Three bodies are still missing. What does that mean for the families?
It means the grief isn't finished. It means waiting. It means not being able to bury someone, not being able to close that chapter. The recovery is deliberate because the chemicals are still dangerous, but that deliberateness also means time stretches out for people who just want to bring their loved ones home.
The parent company issued a statement. Did that feel adequate to you?
No. How could it? Condolences are what you say when words are all you have left. But the company owns the tank, owns the facility, owns the decision-making that led to this moment. A statement feels like the minimum, not the measure of responsibility.
What happens next?
An investigation. Probably lawsuits. The community grieves and tries to understand how something this catastrophic happened in a place where people have worked safely for decades. And three families wait for their missing to be found.