FRANTIC FRIENDS, FAMILY
Duprey, 53, called her husband, Gerry, on her cellphone; he was at the family-meeting area two blocks away and parallel to Boylston Street, where the pressure-cooker explosives detonated.
“I said, ‘Did you hear that? What is it?’
“He said, ‘I don’t know.’ He couldn’t see anything. The buildings concealed the smoke from him, where I had a straight view of the smoke.”
Five minutes after the second explosion, they met up.
“No one still knew exactly what was going on. There was not a lot of panic where we were.”
As they walked to their car, they heard the sirens of the first responders.
“We still didn’t officially know it was a bomb until we were walking back to the car,” Mary said.
Frantic friends and family called and texted to find out if they were OK.
“Then, we just got in the car and said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’ We were early enough that we were not stopped trying to leave. But as we were leaving, we saw the S.W.A.T Teams coming in with all that gear on.”
As the Dupreys listened to the newscasts, they thought they were pretty lucky, very fortunate. They listened to the radio the entire trip back to Rouses Point.
“I guess it’s just the state of human nature,” Mary said.
“(But) what is going wrong with people that they have to do stuff like this? You just feel terrible for the people who lost their lives, their families and the people who got injured.
“You thank God that all those emergency personnel were right there. I think a lot more lives would have been lost if all that support had not been there.”
Gerry, 67, ran the Boston Marathon two years ago.