Too Low & Too Slow. The Shoreham Airshow Disaster. No AI. A Disaster Documentary. transcript

Shortly after 20 1 on August the 22nd, 2015, the busy A27 on the south coast of England was carrying the usual Saturday traffic. It was a beautiful summer's day and people were simply going about their lives. Two young footballers were traveling to a match. Cyclists were heading towards the South Downs and a chauffeur was on his way to collect a bride for her wedding. Just over the fence, around 20,000 people had gathered at Shorum Airport for one of Britain's most popular air shows.

At 1:22 that afternoon, those two worlds collided. A vintage Hawker Hunter flown by a highly experienced former RAF pilot failed to recover from an arerobatic maneuver and crashed directly onto the A27. 11 men were killed. But here was the extraordinary thing. Not one of them was actually at the air show. The thousands of people who had come through the gates to watch were unharmed, while 11 men beyond the airport boundary had lost their lives.

And when investigators began asking how an event designed to entertain thousands of people safely inside an airfield had been allowed to kill 11 people beyond its boundaries, they would discover that the answer went far beyond one disastrous maneuver in the sky. The Shawroom Air Show had been part of the summer calendar in West Sussex for more than 20 years. held at the small airport between Brighton and Worththing. It had grown into a popular annual event bringing together historic aircraft, modern military jets, and arerabatic displays while raising money for the Royal Air Force's Association.

By 2015, it was attracting tens of thousands of visitors over the course of the weekend, and Saturday's program offered exactly the sort of mixture that had made the show so popular. There would be aircraft from the Second World War, arerabatic teams, helicopters, and powerful military jets. While one of the most eagerly anticipated appearances would come from the enormous AVO Vulcan bomber, then approaching the end of its final flying season.

For aviation enthusiasts, opportunities to see aircraft like these were disappearing. Many had been designed in an age when military aviation was changing extraordinarily quickly as the propeller-driven fighters of the Second World War gave way to a new generation of aircraft capable of traveling at speeds their predecessors could barely have imagined. And one of the most successful British fighters to emerge from that period was the Hawker Hunter.

First flown in 1951, the Hunter was sleek, swept winged, and powered by a Rolls-Royce AAN turbo jet engine. It entered service with the Royal Air Force 3 years later and would eventually serve with air forces around the world, earning a reputation as a fast, agile aircraft that pilots generally love to fly. By 2015, of course, its days as a frontline fighter were long gone, but the Hunter had found a second life. A small number remained airworthy in civilian hands, and at air shows, they were enormously popular.

There was something about seeing an aircraft designed more than 60 years earlier, still moving at tremendous speed. Its distinctive shape sweeping across an airfield accompanied by the unmistakable roar of a Cold War jet engine. The aircraft due to appear at shore that afternoon was a two seat Hawker Hunter T7 registration Gulf Bravo X-ray Foxtrot India. And the man who would fly it was no amateur enthusiast indulging in an expensive hobby.

Andrew Hill was 51 years old and had spent much of his adult life in the cockpit. During his career with the Royal Air Force, Hill had flown the Harrier and served as an instructor before leaving the military and moving into commercial aviation. He would eventually become a captain with British Airways while continuing to fly historic military aircraft on the display circuit. He therefore arrived at Shorram with experience few people watching from below could ever hope to possess.

But display flying is a very different business from taking an airliner from one airport to another. The purpose is to bring an aircraft close enough to the crowd for people to appreciate what it can do, often while maneuvering at relatively low altitude and at considerable speed. And although the movements can appear effortless from the ground, every turn, climb, and descent depends upon the pilot keeping the aircraft within very particular margins.

Speed provides energy. Height provides room. And the lower an aircraft is flying, the less of either a pilot can afford to lose. For that reason, display pilots do not simply arrive at an air show and fly whatever routine occurs to them. They operate under specific authorizations setting out what they are permitted to do and the minimum heights at which they may do it. Hills authorization required his arerobatic maneuvers at Shore to remain at or above 500 ft.

Now there was another complication at Shorum which would later become enormously important. The airport did not sit in isolation. Immediately beyond its northern boundary ran the A27, one of the main roads along the south coast, carrying ordinary traffic between towns and villages across Sussex. Nearby were smaller roads, footpaths, and cycle routes, all of them remaining open while the display took place. Shortly after 1:00 that afternoon, Andrew Hill took off from North Airfield in Essex and headed south in the Hunter.

And at around 1:19 that afternoon, Gulf Bravo X-ray Foxtrot India approached Shore Airport and began its routine. For the thousands watching below, the Hunter was everything they had come to see. Hill brought the aircraft through a series of passes and turns, its engine reverberating across the airfield as he repositioned for each part of the display. And while all eyes inside shore were following him across the sky, life continued on the other side of the airport fence. 23-year-old Matthew Grimstone and his friend Jacob Schult were traveling towards a football match.

Both played for Worththing United with Matthew in goal and Jacob in midfield and they were expected on the pitch later that afternoon. friends Dylan Archer and Richard Smith were out on their bicycles heading towards the South Downs. Matt Jones and Danielle Pito had spent part of the day working together on a building job. With the weather so good, they had finished early and were now traveling along the A27 to make the most of what remained of the afternoon.

Others had deliberately stopped outside the airport to watch. Anthony Brightwell knew Shaun particularly well. The 53-year-old healthc care manager was an aviation enthusiast who had learned to fly there himself. Retired engineer Graeme Malinsson had brought his camera hoping to photograph the Vulcan during its final season. While Mark Reeves and father of six Mark Trussler had both arrived on motorbikes and stopped near the airport to watch the aircraft overhead.

And then there was Morris Abrahams. Morris was 76 years old and had been working as a chauffeur for around 20 years. That afternoon he was driving his beautiful vintage dameler towards Goring by sea where a bride named Rebecca Sheen was preparing for her wedding. Rebecca was expecting him at half 2 and Morris had never been late for a wedding. As he approached the junction near Shore airport, traffic on the A27 was busy.

A motorist named Michael Sturgis was waiting to pull out with his 8-year-old son beside him, and Morris stopped the dameler to allow them into the traffic ahead. It was a tiny act of courtesy, the sort of thing that would normally have been forgotten within seconds. Michael moved ahead. Morris continued behind him, and above them, Andrew Hill was positioning the Hawker Hunter for the maneuver that would change everything.

Hill had just completed a derry turn and was preparing to take the hunter into a climbing rolling maneuver that would carry the aircraft upwards before bringing it over the top and back down towards the airfield. To the people watching, it promised to be another spectacular few seconds. But before the hunter had even begun to climb, something was already wrong. Hill had previously indicated that he required around 350 knots of air speed before entering the maneuver.

He had approximately 310, and instead of beginning at or above the 500 ft minimum height required by his display authorization, the hunter entered the maneuver at only around 200 ft above the ground. Hill pulled the aircraft upwards. The hunter began to climb. From the ground, there was nothing particularly alarming about what spectators were seeing. The Hunter continued upwards, rolling as it climbed. The aircraft was supposed to climb.

It was supposed to roll, and it was supposed to become inverted as it passed across the top of the maneuver. The problem was that Hill had begun without the speed and height he needed, and he had not selected maximum thrust. As the hunter climbed, its air speed steadily fell. Hill had previously indicated that to complete the maneuver while remaining within his authorized limits, he needed to reach an altitude of around 3 and a half th000 ft at the top.

The Hunter only reached about 2,700 ft. By then, its speed had fallen to approximately 105 knots. The aircraft was inverted with the ground above Hill's head and the nose beginning to come through towards the descending half of the maneuver. And this was the critical moment. Hill was now hundreds of feet lower than he needed to be, but the accident was still not inevitable. There was a way out. Rather than continuing downwards and attempting to complete the maneuver, Hill could abandon it by rolling the Hunter upright and recovering without completing the descending portion.

There was still the possibility of preventing the aircraft from reaching the ground. But Hill continued. Why an experienced pilot who had already recognized the importance of reaching sufficient height at the top of the maneuver did not abandon it would become one of the most difficult questions of the entire investigation. There was however another problem that nobody watching below could possibly have known. Hill had not received formal training in the Hunter for the relevant escape maneuver.

He had never practiced it in that aircraft and did not know the minimum speed at which it could be successfully carried out. So instead of rolling out, the Hunter continued over the top and began descending towards Shore. Gravity now began giving the aircraft back some of the speed it had lost during the climb. But speed was no longer the greatest problem. Height was. The Hunter was coming down from a position far lower than Hill had intended, and every second of descent was using up the limited space available between the aircraft and the ground.

Hill attempted to recover. The Hunter responded to his control inputs, and its flight path began to change, but there simply wasn't enough room remaining beneath it to complete the recovery. For some of those watching, the display suddenly began to look very different. The aircraft was no longer merely performing against the sky. It was getting frighteningly close to the ground, and directly beneath its path was not an empty field or a stretch of open countryside.

It was the A27. Morris Abrahams was now caught in the traffic near the Kums Road junction. The dameler he was driving towards Rebecca's wedding had come to a halt, while the car containing Michael Sturgis and his 8-year-old son, the car Morris had allowed into the traffic ahead of him only moments earlier, had moved further forward. Nearby were Matthew Grimstone and Jacob Schil, still traveling towards their football match.

Matt Jones and Danielle Pito were on the same stretch of road. Alongside it were Dylan Archer and Richard Smith on their bicycles, while Tony Brightwell, Graham Malinsson, Mark Reeves, and Mark Trussler were among those who had stopped outside the airfield to watch. There was almost nothing any of them could do. At 1:22 that afternoon, the Hawker Hunter crossed the northern edge of the A27. It struck the westbound carriageway and several vehicles before breaking apart as it continued across the road.

Fuel released from the aircraft ignited almost immediately, engulfing part of the carriageway in a huge fireball and sending wreckage across the surrounding area. The transformation was almost instantaneous. One moment there had been ordinary Saturday traffic moving beside an air show. The next vehicles were burning and people were running from the flames. Peter Reed was driving along the A27 when suddenly his car was engulfed.

With the vehicle still moving, he managed to get out and escape from the fire. Thomas Milbour had been standing near the road, watching the aircraft. He was caught in the blast and suffered severe burns to his arms, legs, and back as he tried to get away. Peter Snellgrove was knocked completely from his feet by the force of the explosion, and there were other escapes which came down to little more than a few meters or a few seconds.

Ashley and Angie Walker were traveling along the A27 with another car containing their daughter following behind them. The hunter came down between the two vehicles. They survived. So did Michael Sturgis and his 8-year-old son. Morris's small act of courtesy had saved them. Morris himself was killed along with Matthew Grimstone and Jacob Schil, Matt Jones and Daniel Pito, Dylan Archer and Richard Smith, Anthony Brewell, Graham Malinsson, Mark Reeves and Mark Trussler. 11 men had lost their lives within seconds.

None of them had been standing among the thousands of paying spectators inside Shore Airport. Yet only a short distance away, something almost impossible had happened. The man at the controls of the aircraft had survived. Andrew Hill had not ejected from the Hunter before it struck the road. During the violent breakup of the aircraft, parts of the canopy and ejection seat mechanism were triggered, although the normal firing sequence could not operate correctly as the system itself was being torn apart.

The seat separated from the wreckage, and when rescuers reached it, Hill was still strapped inside. He had suffered severe injuries, but he was still alive. Around him, the A27 was burning. And elsewhere in West Sussex, people were still waiting for men who had no idea when they set out that morning that they were traveling towards an air show disaster. The first emergency calls were made almost immediately. Firefighters, police officers, and paramedics converged on the A27, while those who had escaped the worst of the impact began trying to help others and prevent more vehicles from entering the burning crash scene.

Jane Groves had been forced to stop around 400 yardds away because of a problem with her own car. Only moments earlier, she had seen Morris Abrahams drive past in his distinctive vintage dameler. Now with smoke rising from the road ahead, Jane stepped onto the A27 and began turning approaching traffic away from the wreckage. For the emergency services, it was an extraordinarily difficult scene. Parts of the Hunter and severely damaged vehicles were scattered across the road and surrounding ground.

Fires were burning in several places, and explosive components within the aircraft's ejection system still presented a danger. The air show was immediately suspended and the A27 closed in both directions. As the injured were taken to hospital, police began the grim process of discovering who had been caught in the crash. Elsewhere, people were beginning to realize that somebody was missing. Matthew Grimstone and Jacob Schult never arrived for Worththing United's match that afternoon.

Their families and friends knew that something terrible had happened at Shore and that the two young men had been traveling through the area. And in goring by sea, Rebecca Sheen was waiting for Morris. He was supposed to collect her at 2. That time came and went. With the A27 closed and reliable information difficult to obtain, the obvious explanation was that he had simply become caught in traffic. So Rebecca waited.

Eventually, alternative transport was arranged, and the wedding went ahead with Rebecca and her groom still unaware of what had happened to the man who should have driven her there. Only later did the truth emerge. By the end of August the 22nd, 11 families had been changed forever. But there was now one overwhelming question. The weather had been good. There had been no obvious catastrophic failure in the air, and the man flying the Hunter was an RAFt trained Harrier pilot, former instructor, airline captain, and experienced display pilot.

So, how had he ended up flying an aircraft directly into a public road? The air accidents investigation branch began reconstructing the flight almost immediately, helped by the extraordinary amount of photographic and video evidence recorded by spectators. The wreckage was examined for any sign that the hunter had failed hill. Investigators did find maintenance and airworthiness deficiencies, including a problem within the engine fuel control system, but none explained the crash.

There had been no catastrophic structural failure and the aircraft had responded to Hill's control inputs. Instead, the evidence led back to the maneuver itself. Hill had begun without sufficient speed or height and without maximum thrust. The hunter had failed to reach the altitude required at the top. Yet, Hill had continued into the descent when there was no longer enough height available to recover. What investigators could not establish with the same certainty was why a pilot with his experience had done so.

Hill himself remembered flying towards Shorum, but said he could remember nothing of the display or the crash. Investigators considered whether GeForce might have caused some form of cognitive impairment without rendering him unconscious, but the evidence could not provide a definitive answer. There was however another failure which went beyond Andrew Hill. The thousands of paying spectators inside Shore airport had been positioned behind a designated display line and within an environment where the risks of the flying had been considered.

Immediately outside it, the A27 had remained open. Cars and motorcycles continued along it. Cyclists used the path beside it and people gathered outside the airport to watch the aircraft. Yet the AIB found that no single organization or individual had taken responsibility for considering the complete range of risks to those people. The distinction between the air show and the outside world might have existed on a map.

It meant nothing to an aircraft traveling at hundreds of miles an hour. The AIB ultimately made dozens of safety recommendations and the Civil Aviation Authority introduced restrictions on civilian operated hawker hunters and other former military jets while carrying out a wider review of British air displays. But the question of Andrew Hill's personal responsibility was not finished. In 2017, he was charged with 11 counts of manslaughter by gross negligence and two years later stood trial at the old Bailey.

The prosecution argued that his flying had fallen so far below the standard expected of a competent display pilot that he was criminally responsible for the deaths. His defense maintained that GeForce may have caused cognitive impairment and affected his ability to make decisions during the display. In March 2019, the jury returned its verdict. Andrew Hill was acquitted on all 11 counts. For the families, however, another legal process remained.

When the full inquests into the deaths eventually took place in 2022, more than 7 years had passed since the crash. There, the 11 men once again became more than names in an accident report. Senior coroner Penelopey Scoffield also considered the suggestion that cognitive impairment might explain Hill's actions. She rejected it. She described Hills flying that afternoon as exceptionally bad and on December the 20th, 2022 concluded that all 11 men had been unlawfully killed.

That did not overturn Hills acquitt. The criminal trial and the inquest had different purposes and applied different legal standards. But for the families, the finding mattered enormously. The deaths of their husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, and friends had not resulted from an unavoidable mechanical catastrophe. Hills professional and private pilot licenses were subsequently revoked by the Civil Aviation Authority.

He fought for years to have them restored, but after further challenges, including a final attempt through the high court almost a decade after the disaster, the decision stood. Andrew Hill would not fly again as a licensed pilot. Shorum also changed the way civilian air displays were regulated in Britain. Risk assessments and oversight was strengthened. Greater attention was paid to the areas over which aircraft performed and the safety of people beyond the airfield boundary could no longer be treated as somebody else's problem.

Today, aircraft still fly from Shorum, now known as Brighton City Airport, and traffic once again moves along the A27 beside it. There is little in that landscape to suggest what happened there on a beautiful summer afternoon in August 2015. But the 11 men who died are remembered. None of those 11 men had crossed the gates into Shorum Air Show that afternoon. Yet all of them became part of its history. They had simply been living their lives beyond the airport fence in a place where nobody had properly considered that they might need protecting from what was happening on the other side.

Now, this particular disaster brought home to me the problem of aircraft that were taking part in displays flying outside the bounds of the actual display area. At one time I lived in Scarra and the Red Arrows came to perform at the armed forces day on the seafront. But as part of their routine, the normal synchro pairs who split up as individual aircraft go away from the display area and one of them actually flew over my house.

So, it just goes to show that danger can arrive from anywhere. Our condolences go out to the family and friends of those who lost their lives in this terrible tragedy and our best wishes to anyone else who was affected by the disaster. Despite the nature of the information, I hope you appreciated the way it was presented. I'll see you on the next one and I'll wish you bye-bye for now.