The twisted wreckage in Baltimore stands as a memorial to people gathering to grieve

BALTIMORE — They had to come see it.

They’d gotten text messages in the middle of the night or woke Tuesday morning to the frightening news that the Francis Scott Key Bridge had been struck by an immense cargo ship and collapsed.

So these Baltimore residents leashed their dogs and gathered up friends and family members to head to the Fort McHenry seawall, with its heart-rending view of the twisted remains of what for decades had been a comforting landmark, a symbol of home.

There, they stared across Baltimore harbor as Coast Guard ships searched for survivors. Quietly, they grieved for the dead and hoped that the living might still be plucked from the cold waters.

They still don't know who may have died when parts of the bridge fell into the Patapsco River. They do know the bridge.

They'd sailed their boats underneath it, driven over it or simply stood on the fort’s milelong walking path, with the 19th century cannons perched behind them, and taken photos of the soaring, 185-foot-high structure for no other reason than they thought it beautiful. Now it’s gone, and its neighbors are grieving.

“It’s devastating,” said Kathy Carducci, 59, who was out walking with her 11-year-old beagle. “I have so many pictures of the bridge. Many times, we walk around and I’ll just take a picture of the bridge. It’s iconic Baltimore.”

Sarah Vitale, 40, sat on a bench and gazed into the distance. She comes to the fort to walk from time to time, but Tuesday morning she was there to “reflect,” she said. At least six people were presumed dead Tuesday evening.

“I saw the footage of it; it’s something out a horror movie,” she said. “I expected to feel this way when I came down here. I decided I wanted to do that not only to see what the scene looked like, but to pray for these people.”

This being a world where terrorism is all too common, some of those who’d come to see the wreckage had wondered whether the bridge might have been attacked. Maryland Gov. Wes Moore said at a morning news briefing that the ship operators had told authorities of a “power issue” and had issued a mayday call moments before the ship struck a pillar.

“There are lots of conclusions we can all jump to,” said Richard Mead, 48, a Baltimore resident who was walking his dog, a boxer mix. “We have to worry about national security and infrastructure, but maybe today is a reminder that sometimes unfortunate things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

If there was any heartening news to come out of the tragedy, it was that the loss of life wasn’t worse, the Baltimoreans said. Far more motorists would have surely died had the collision happened at rush hour.

Kelsey Johnson, 32, an emergency medicine resident at the University of Maryland was working the night shift when the bridge fell.

“We were getting ready for a mass casualty event,” he said while standing at the sea wall with his fiancé.

As it turned out, there was only one patient who was treated in the shock trauma unit, he said.

“It’s awful,” he said. “You hope everyone does OK, but it’s a big fall. You wonder how anyone could survive in the middle of the night, temperatures being what they are.”

The shock of losing the bridge may take a while to subside.

Charlie Totten, 38, and his wife, Lauren Marks, 34, could see it from atop their Baltimore home.

“We heard the news and looked out from the top floor, and it wasn’t there,” he said.

The couple have piloted their sailboat underneath the bridge and marveled at its height.

“You look up and there’s this massive shadow,” Marks said.

“Now, it’s just gone.”