Sunday’s worship service at Maple Valley Baptist Church, roughly three miles from the Accurate Energetic Systems plant, felt more like a town meeting than a sermon. Congregants stood in clusters on the church lawn, clinging to one another, as families of workers killed in Friday’s explosion recounted frantic phone calls and searches for missing loved ones. The blast in McEwen, Tenn., killed 16 people and shattered a sense of safety in a community whose economic life is intertwined with the plant.

“We’re a town that depends on these jobs, but we are more than jobs,” Pastor Jimmy Andrews told congregants after comforting a woman whose grandson worked at the facility. “Tonight we grieve, and tomorrow we’ll ask hard questions about how this happened and who is responsible.”

Local officials and residents have described a chaotic response in the hours after the blast, with first responders working alongside state police and federal investigators to secure the site. Tennessee and federal agencies have opened probes into the cause and compliance history of the plant, while emergency managers continue to assess any immediate environmental or public-health hazards. Authorities have urged residents downwind of the facility to follow official guidance and participate in any air and soil monitoring efforts.

Beyond the immediate loss of life, the explosion has surfaced broader policy issues. Safety advocates and some lawmakers called for renewed scrutiny of regulatory oversight for explosives manufacturers, arguing that rural facilities are often subject to fewer inspections and that their workforces—disproportionately blue-collar and lower income—have limited power to press for safer conditions. “When the towns that host hazardous industries are small and economically vulnerable, their residents face a dual burden: risk to life and reluctance to demand accountability,” said Dr. Maria Alvarez, a public-health researcher who studies industrial disasters.

Healthcare providers in the region are preparing for the long tail of the event. Beyond treating acute injuries, mental-health professionals and social-service agencies are mobilizing grief counseling and trauma support for survivors, families and first responders. “Mass casualty events of this scale in rural settings strain existing systems,” said a county health official. “We must think beyond immediate trauma care to ongoing mental-health resources and monitoring for possible exposure-related illnesses.”

The plant provided well-paying jobs in a county with limited alternatives, underscoring the economic trade-offs that shape residents’ responses. Several workers’ families said they felt conflicted—grateful for the livelihoods the plant supplied, yet furious and frightened that safety may have been compromised. Unions and worker advocates have urged transparent investigations and stronger whistleblower protections for employees who raise safety concerns.

As neighbors began to catalog photographs and memories of those lost, civic leaders pledged to press for answers. State representatives plan hearings to examine inspection records and emergency readiness, while community groups called for accessible, long-term health screenings and financial support for affected families.

For many in McEwen, the blast was not only a sudden catastrophe but also a reminder of systemic vulnerabilities in how the nation regulates hazardous industry and cares for the communities that host it. In the days ahead, residents said they would balance mourning with advocacy, hoping their losses would prompt changes to prevent similar tragedies elsewhere.