Awoke this morning to the news that an Air Canada Express CRJ-900 had collided with a “fire truck” at LaGuardia Airport (KLGA) in NY. I paused. Initial news reports are often sketchy, occasionally wildly inaccurate. Sadly, what aired seems to be on the mark. As of this writing, two pilots are reported dead, with numerous injuries—likely many significant—to other crew members, passengers, and the emergency crew aboard the fire truck.
It’s pointless at this stage to second-guess what happened. Whatever the cause—and as a former FAA air traffic controller—I have my thoughts but won’t speculate, because the post-accident investigation is in progress and will take time to determine cold probable cause. We can guess but don’t know.
What I do know, and what gave me sickening pause, was probable controller reaction. This is certainly not to diminish the horror to passengers and crews and, by now, to families, friends, and colleagues. Disasters such as these radiate in ever-expanding rings of disbelief and grief. Still, I couldn’t help but react with a chilling “what if I’d been the ground controller working at that defining instant?” And this incident—no, that word is too clinical—this crash will define at least one air traffic controller’s career and, more importantly, that controller’s life, as well as the futures of fellow controllers and supervisors.
I don’t know and won’t guess what staffing status was inside the KLGA control tower at that moment. Position logs and audio tapes (or digital equivalent) are already secured and will be analyzed in detail, well beyond what online experts might declare. Controllers who had any association with the crash have already been interviewed, have already filled out post-incident reports, which usually begin with: “My name is … (and) I was working (name of the control position—ground, tower, supe, whatever) …” I’ve been there, written a few. I have no familiarity with the KLGA ATCT but worked in three other FAA towers, at each of which I’ve witnessed accidents—mostly nonfatal—that unleash an avalanche of paperwork and ATC grief.
Control towers might seem like omnipotent monoliths with all-seeing glass eyes and confident, but anonymous, voices wielding immense power over life and death. That’s their purpose. Keeping everyone alive while moving along with confidence is how the National Airspace System (NAS) works. But all systems have soft spots, unknown flaws that can spring from the maw of dreadful consequence seemingly without warning.
No matter how sophisticated the ATC radar and ASDE (Airport Surface Detection Equipment) are, something can go wrong with the pulpy humans who operate this incredibly complicated transportation system. Something went wrong at KLGA. Again, I don’t know what.
In my long-ago career I’ve made mistakes—most were in the Ooops category, embarrassing but no foul. Once, as a newly certified controller I thoroughly screwed up and almost killed an IFR pilot (he was flying solo). His irate, and terrified, calls to me unmasking my error still haunt decades later. I was decertified and retrained, humiliating but essential. I never repeated the error and years later noticed an inexperienced controller about to make a similar error and discretely tapped his radar scope to point out the pending confliction. Potential crisis averted. That’s how the system works. Controllers watch out for the users and for each other. It’s hoped.
Something went depressingly wrong at KLGA. That we know. I don’t know why but do know that at least one air traffic controller there is in shock and grief, a different kind of grief from what Air Canada Express families now experience.
Nothing in aviation is perfect, but it’s perfectly fine to feel empathy to those now unraveling—but not undoing—this tragic event.
Truly a sad situation! I honestly don’t know how a person can do the job of ATC day after day, knowing that potentially thousands of people’s lives are in their hands at any moment. I have been on the ramp at some of the nation’s busiest airports (LAX, ORD, EWR, etc.) and marveled at the movement of planes, vehicles and people in a seemingly chaotic dance that never really stops. It is kind of amazing that more incidents like this don’t happen, especially at night. My condolences to the families of the pilots, and my sympathy and respect to the controller(s) that may be involved.
In my 38 years of ATC, both radar and tower, I can still, many years later recall, actually still never forgetting 3 specific events that were beyond “oops”. They basically were assisted to survival by the big sky theory. Each one was so silent, they were never recognized by anyone except me. And each scared me to death, as I relived them over and over for a long time. One was the LAX arrival and departure sectors at ZLA, another at LIT tower, and the last at ORD. Each made me think do I really want to be doing this. At the time, youth helps you say “it won’t happen to me again.” Now, 25 years after I last talked to an airplane, I definitely say no, never again. I survived the 38 years, with a bit of the big sky theory working for me. But, with any ATC caused accident, I certainly recognize and feel the sorrow for any persons killed or injured. But my otherwise immediate thought is for the controller that caused it. He/she will never be the same again. And I can still now think of four controllers that fell to that. When it happens, I always say to myself, “there but for the grace of God go I.” We are all capable of unfortunate human error, both controllers and pilots.
Not just “the controller who caused it”, but also the controllers who come away feeling responsible for not preventing it. It takes a while, no matter how many “you did everything you could have done” you hear. Controllers are special people.
I agree, Paul. This kind of tragedy hits everyone there, and it stays with the rest of us too. A very sad event. May the pilots rest in peace.
The best thing anyone can do at this time is to skip speculating. Even though society and especially the press is quick to seek and assign fault/ guilt, its one of these “oops” or “oh sh!t” moments that went all the way. My thoughts are squarely with the ATC people who wanted to run a safe shift and those who have lost loved ones.
Lets hope not too many shiny eyed captain shirt wearing youtube experts share their expertise for clicks and ad revenue.
Paul, your perspective as a former ATC controller is particularly poignant. Thank you for sharing. ‘Nuff said.
The what seems pretty clear. The why will take more time to investigate and determine. It seems clear from the audio that the controller erred and realized it quickly, but not quickly enough. It also seems to me that the fire truck didn’t properly clear the runway before progressing onto it. Even with a sea of lights, I’ve always found the landing lights to stand out when they are facing nearly at you. I suspect the fire truck was focused on getting to the United flight and when the controller said “cleared” simply went without properly checking the runway.
When I’m taxiing I never trust the controller. I always double check taxiways and runways before entering or crossing them. We all make mistakes and we need at least two layers of checks. It appears to me in this case both layers failed, but the final report will hopefully determine the why behind the what.
One thing that seems clear is that the crew of the RJ simply had no chance. Their fate was sealed almost as soon as they touched down.
Always great to see Paul Berge’s byline, and this reasoned, empathetic, and comprehensive article underscores why. I’m an IFR pilot and have always marveled at the professionalism of the controllers I’m privileged to work with — their dedication and professionalism is what makes this complex system seem simple, safe and elegant. I’ve been thinking of this controller and everyone affected, and can’t imagine what they’re going through.
The NTSB Chair said something to the effect of, ” There are multiple safety systems in place to prevent an accident like this, and we need to understand which of those failed so we can prevent future accidents.” Controllers are at the pointy end of the spear, but a whole system needs to be operating properly to back them up for an effective safety environment.
Paul, I appreciate your effort to present a balanced view but I must take exception to your overall context. There are two people dead, many injured, even more people irreparably traumatized because of a controller error. As former controllers, you and I well know some events are cut and dried when it comes to runway separation. Of course, rarely is an accident or incident without multiple contributory factors or missed opportunities to prevent it, but there remains an ultimate responsibility accompanying an ATC clearance. Fact: The aircraft was cleared to land. Fact: The vehicles were cleared to cross. The bullet left the gun, there was no calling it back. I fully support and have participated in thorough investigations that include all aspects of an event with an eye to providing future preventive measures and mitigations. “If only there were X or Y” are noble points to be addressed, and the NTSB is very good at their job. Believe me, nobody is more empathetic toward controllers than I am. I know that the nightmares will never go away. But to frame your piece from the controller’s perspective at this juncture seems a bit out of place and insensitive.
Fact: The vehicles were cleared to cross. The bullet left the gun, there was no calling it back.
Clearances are revoked or modified many times every day, so your assertion, and thus conclusion is flawed. Given that it’s unlikely the ARFF driver intentionally ignored the controller’s repeated calls to “STOP! STOP! STOP! …” we must assume that the driver never heard them.
Walking back a failure chain can lead to a number of events that provide nothing probative to the accident. Fortunately, Occam’s Razor leaves us with the question, “Why were the controller’s warnings not heard by anyone in the ARFF after getting their clearance to cross R4?
Half right. Clearances are corrected and modified under the following conditions:
The amendment is received and acknowledged.The instructions are reasonably effected.There is time to comply before an untoward event occurs.In this case, the vehicles were entering the runway at the critical moment where there was obviously no time to correct the mistake. I spent decades as an FAA controller and trained many ATCSs. Sometimes there are uncorrectable errors due to the immediacy of the event. Clearances must be correct because you cannot rely on having the luxury of making a timely correction. Tragically, the efforts to correct the mistake were unsuccessful. In that way, I stand by the “bullet” analogy.
I am not privy to a transcript of the radio calls with a timeline vis-a-vis the ARFF position, so you may be right. If the ARFF had already crossed the taxiway hold line before the controller began shouting “STOP!”, the die was cast. But the number of times he repeatedly called for the ARFF to stop, leads me to think that a timely reaction by the ARFF might have averted the tragedy.
So I’m willing to wait for a timestamped transcript before I’m willing to ascribe sole culpability to the controller.
Point well taken. We are on the same team.
Accident chains tend to be long and contain many links. There are always many “if only”s that could have prevented a tragedy. ATC&pilot errors occur every day, are caught, and resolved with only muttered expletives. This controller tried his best to get the ARFF to stop before crossing R4 @ Delta, but apparently his timely warnings were not received. (One assumes that if received, the ARFF driver would not have entered the runway.)
I’d start my postmortem at that communication failure, and not look for yet another high-tech solution. Or crucify the controller; he’ll carry that burden the rest of this life.
Sort of an off the wall comment, but I have a friend who was a locomotive engineer. He once told me that, if you’re going to make a career of it, you have to accept the fact that, sooner or later, you’re going to be driving a train that kills somebody at a grade crossing. Even though you know it was the victim’s responsibility, you were still driving the train.