When Jonathan Walczak was 15, an article about a disposable camera found on a man who died in the World Trade Center rubble captured his attention and would shape his life’s work. The camera, discovered in a victim’s pocket, contained undeveloped film showing moments from inside one of the towers during the Sept. 11 attacks. An FBI explosives unit agent had described the photos in 2003 as a chilling and unique record of that morning, including images of the man himself, who appeared to be a construction worker, standing at a window as the other tower burned and jumpers fell outside.

Walczak, who visited the towers as a child, was captivated by the notion that these images remained unseen by the public. After becoming a journalist and moving to Manhattan in 2010, he began filing Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests seeking access to the photos from the disposable camera. Over more than a decade, however, his efforts were repeatedly denied by the FBI, which said its searches for the camera and photos had proven unsuccessful. The FBI reported that multiple offices were physically searched and extensive queries using various search terms yielded no results. The storage facility where the evidence had once been held had since been repurposed.

In response, Walczak filed a lawsuit against the FBI in federal court last year, alleging the agency had not conducted an adequate search. The case is currently pending in the Southern District of New York.

Walczak’s pursuit has led him into a network of independent researchers dedicated to uncovering lost or unpublished footage from Sept. 11. Alongside figures like Andrew Boston, an electrician and founder of an online Sept. 11 archival community, Walczak has helped catalog rare videos and photos that continue to surface decades later. These include recently discovered recordings showing office equipment falling from high floors and footage from a contractor who filmed the collapse and aftermath.

The significance of the disposable camera’s images was underscored by Laura Sullivan, the journalist who originally reported on the camera after visiting the FBI’s evidence unit in 2003. Sullivan recalled the emotional impact of seeing photos that captured the final moments of a man trapped inside the tower, taken with a simple, analog device. She described the images as powerful reminders of the human experience amid tragedy, contrasting their tangibility with today’s digital media.

Walczak also contacted Donald Sachtleben, the FBI explosives technician who oversaw the evidence unit where the film was examined. Sachtleben, whose notable career later ended in incarceration for unrelated offenses, told Walczak that he believed the photos were likely stored somewhere in FBI archives but offered little further insight.

While the quest for the disposable camera photos remains unresolved, Walczak has pursued other lines of inquiry, including examining a professional-grade camera found at ground zero. His research informed the recent documentary “32 Frames: A 9/11 Mystery,” which investigates photographs taken in the immediate aftermath of the attacks and attempts to identify those depicted.

For Walczak and others immersed in studying the events of Sept. 11, the endeavor is deeply personal, driven not by conspiracy but by a desire to understand and preserve the history of that day. The attacks represent a formative moment for many now in their 20s and 30s who were children when the towers fell. Their collective efforts to unearth and document missing visual records reflect an ongoing engagement with a defining event of contemporary American history.