Original subtitles

A crippled airliner falls toward the Indian Ocean.

It has no fuel, no engine power at all.

Both engines are out.

That's it.

The captain struggles to do what no one has

ever done before, safely land a passenger

jet on the open ocean.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are starting our approach.

We lost both engines.

May-day. May-day.

Brace for impact.

I think I lost one

He's going to clash.

Ethiopian Airlines flight 961 is a routine trip from Addis

Ababa to the Ivory Coast.

The captain is Leul Abate.

At 42, he's an extremely experienced pilot.

Seven 300 kilograms.

Center tank is zero--

He has more than 11,000 hours of flying time to his credit.

Total fuel is 14,500 kilograms.

Check.

Ethiopian flight 961 will stop briefly

in Nairobi, Brazzaville, and Lagos

before it reaches its final destination of Abidjan.

The plane has just enough fuel for the first leg of the trip.

It will get more in Nairobi.

Less fuel on board makes the plane lighter,

increasing efficiency.

switches are off.

Captain Abate and his co-pilot Yonas Mekuria expect

their day's work will be over in about 12 hours when

they land in the Ivory Coast.

All clear.

That day was a bright day, clear skies.

Everything was fine.

The passengers on board 961 are a mix

of Ethiopians and travelers from other countries flying

for business and pleasure.

Michael Oddenyo, seated in economy class,

is a Kenyan businessman on his way home to Nairobi.

I spent the whole of Friday trying to get on that flight,

calling the airline every hour or so.

I remember Friday night, about 11 o'clock,

I called them again, and they said, look,

just come to the airport.

We'll see if we can find a seat for you.

So I sometimes feel like I put myself on that aircraft.

Near the front of the plane, American Frank Huddle

is also getting settled in.

He's the United States consul general in Bombay.

My wife Pam and myself decided to take a trip

to Africa and go on safari.

I wanted a daytime flight because it was safer,

so I picked Ethiopian Airlines, which had a good reputation.

It was one of the two carriers in all of Africa

that was FAA certified.

A few rows ahead of them is Mo Amin, a legendary news

cameraman and journalist.

He's a well-known personality, especially in Ethiopia.

In 1984, Amin captured images which shocked the world.

His pictures of the Ethiopian famine

sparked an outpouring of aid, which

helped pull Ethiopia back from the brink of starvation.

Mo Amin was, I think, the most famous news

cameraman of his time and also one of the strangest

of characters.

Amin is known for never backing down in a fight.

He has stuck his nose and his camera

into conflict across Africa.

While filming in Ethiopia, he even

lost his arm in a bomb blast.

Today, he's returning home to Nairobi

after a brief business trip.

By the time all the passengers are on board,

Flight 961 is carrying 175 people.

Not only is Captain Abate used to this route,

but he's also very comfortable with this aircraft.

Lead one.

He and other members of Ethiopian Airlines

call it Zulu.

As the plane climbs into the sky,

three young Ethiopian men have settled into their seats.

All are in their mid-20s.

The plane is bound for Nairobi, but it's

not where these passengers are planning to go.

We took off.

Everything was fine.

The cabin crew called us.

She asked if we want to have coffee or tea or whatever.

Yeah, thank you.

Coffee?

Make it two.

The plane is flying at 39,000 feet

when the three young Ethiopians make their move.

When I heard a noise at the back, somebody was shouting,

and when I looked back, he was running up towards the front,

pushing the air hostesses away.

There were two guys zipping down the plane, yelling

something incomprehensible.

Then guys gliding down silently came right after them,

and I said, oh, it's a hijacking

because they're coordinated.

Initially, we sort of just looked at each other

and wondered what was going on.

People didn't say much immediately.

There was some kind of noise in the cabin,

and I heard the cockpit door slamming open, just bang.

Three men barged through the door

and armed themselves with a cockpit

fire ax and fire extinguisher.

Get out.

Get out.

There was a little confusion up in the front

as if they were attacking the pilots.

There were three guys.

They were shouting.

They came straight to the co-pilot,

and they started hitting him.

Get up.

There's 11 of us.

If you don't do what we say, we'll blow

this plane out of the sky.

I told them OK, don't hurt him.

I'll do whatever you want.

Passengers near the front of the plane

are concerned but have no idea what's going on.

Captain Leul Abate is facing the hijackers alone.

Unlike most pilots, though, Abate has some experience

in a situation like this.

He has been hijacked twice before.

The first hijack was a local flight,

and then two hijackers who had a hand grenade

came into the cockpit, and they forced us to fly to Nairobi.

Abate's second hijacking was just a few years later

when he was piloting a 737.

The hijackers, again, held the hostess hostage,

and they came into the cockpit.

They told me it was a hijack, and they

want to fly to Sweden.

No one was hurt or killed in either of those incidents.

In both cases, Captain Abate had landed safely.

But the turbulent political situation in the region

means hijacking is an unpleasant reality.

From 1990 to 1996, 10 Ethiopian Airlines planes

had been hijacked.

This time, though, the hijackers

make a very unusual request.

Fly to Australia.

What?

Fly us to Australia.

We don't have enough fuel to get to Australia.

It's too far.

We can go to Nairobi, or Zanzibar, or Dar Es Salaam,

and then refuel, and then go to Australia.

In fact, the jet took off with just three and a half

hours' worth of fuel.

But the hijackers don't know that.

They've been reading the in-flight magazine,

which tells them the maximum flying time of a 767.

11 hours.

It won't take more than 10 hours to get to Australia.

I don't have 10 hours of fuel.

It says 11 hours.

We don't carry that much fuel.

We only carry what we need.

They thought I was bluffing.

They were convinced that the airplane

was able to fly to Australia.

Abate is shocked.

No one else in the plane knows what

the hijackers are demanding.

If he does what they say, his plane will crash in the ocean.

If he doesn't, they say they'll blow it out of the sky.

The passengers have no idea what

the hijackers are demanding.

Word spreads of a hijacking but not at their destination.

Flight attendants feed some of the children on board

and keep working as best they can.

We started to ask the stewards what was going on,

and they indicated that there was a hijacking.

It was as if nobody wanted to sort

of rile the hijackers because they

hadn't slapped people around.

It wasn't a sort of a Middle-Eastern-style

where they shoot somebody in the head to make a point.

They were basically leaving the passengers alone,

provided that we didn't do anything,

and that was enough for us.

This is how much fuel we have.

If we had fuel for 11 hours, it would say 60,000 kilograms,

but we don't carry that much fuel.

We only carry what we need.

The hijackers seemed to think that Abate is bluffing.

We have a bomb.

Yes, if you don't do what we tell you to,

we will blow this plane out of the sky.

Abate knows he's trapped.

If he fights the hijackers, they may blow up his plane.

If he does what they want, he'll run out of fuel.

My feeling tells me that it's not a real bomb,

but there is no way that I can challenge that.

One of them has a fire ax.

That is good enough to do serious damage.

And if I'm not alive, everybody's

not alive, that's it.

I want to talk to the passengers.

After about half an hour, the hijackers

came on the public address system,

and they made an announcement that they

have taken over the plane.

And if anybody tried anything, they had one bomb,

and they were going to blow it up.

The announcement is made in Amharic, French, and English.

The policy at that time was we

should follow the hijackers' instruction.

That was before 9/11.

And every action taken is to be taken

on ground, not in flight.

Pilots are trained to fly, not to fight.

We were following sort of the standard script

as it were for passengers, which was to stay out of it,

keep quiet, keep cool, let them sort it out,

get the plane on the ground.

For years, Clint Van Zandt was the FBI'S

chief hostage negotiator.

What made this hijacking so unique

is that the pilot in command had been the victim

of two previous hijackings.

His success rate was 100%.

He probably had a predisposition to this will

end like the other two did.

I'll be able to get it on the ground,

the authorities will deal with it.

Captain Abate knows this situation is different.

Instead of another destination in Africa,

the hijackers want to go to Australia.

Abate knows that heading out into the open ocean

could be a death sentence.

Captain Abate decides to get help.

I have to call air traffic control.

Why?

Because there will be asking why we are changing direction.

Tell them you've been hijacked,

and tell them where we are going.

Addis area control, this is Ethiopian Airlines--

Since the plane is still over Ethiopia,

Abate contacts Addis Ababa area control.

Addis, Ethiopian 961, there are passengers in the cockpit.

Say again, 961.

Addis, 961, we have been hijacked.

We have orders to divert to Australia.

961, Australia, understood.

Confirm your souls on board.

Souls on board, 175.

961, 175 souls on board.

As the aircraft flies South, Addis Ababa

passes the captain over to Nairobi air traffic control.

ETH Nairobi Center, confirm you

are going to land Australia.

Gentlemen, we can't make Australia.

We only have two hours of fuel.

We can't make it Australia.

We will make a water landing.

ETH 961, confirm you can't divert to Mombasa.

They refuse to land anywhere other than Australia,

so we have no choice.

Except when we finish our fuel, we will land on water.

But with two hours of fuel, you can't make Australia.

Why don't you land Mombasa?

OK, just a minute.

Abate connects air traffic control

to the cockpit speakers.

OK, I just wanted our hijackers to hear

what you are communicating.

OK.

And if you have anything to say, go ahead and tell them.

OK.

I am advising you that with two hours of fuel,

you will be unable to reach your destination,

and probably, you would have to land on the water.

The solution is for you to land in Mombasa.

Go ahead.

The hijackers of ETH 961, if you have copied, go ahead.

Waiting to talk.

Stand by.

Do you want to talk to them?

OK, they say they don't want to talk.

They're not willing to negotiate on any terms.

Confirm they are ready to land in the ocean and drown.

Do you have another alternate aerodrome?

Please advise.

I have no alternate aerodrome.

Sir, I'm in a very tight corner.

Enough talk.

We will not negotiate.

That's bull .

That's bull .

They said follow our instruction,

if you don't, we'll blow the airplane up.

That's it.

Ethiopia 961, Nairobi control, do you read?

There will be no more communications

between the aircraft and air traffic control.

An hour has passed since the beginning of the hijacking.

No one knows exactly what is going on at the cockpit.

For the rest of the passengers and crew,

the flight has settled into an uneasy routine.

We went generally South, and there was

an eerie, edgy, nervous calm.

Nobody is talking much, and people

are in their own little individual worlds.

With only a fraction of the fuel

needed to get to Australia, Abate

decides to defy the hijackers.

Without their knowledge, he continues South instead

of East towards Australia.

I started following the African coastline

because in case anything happens,

we will have a place to ditch or land

safely because most of the cities are by the coastline.

But with a glance of the window,

the hijackers suddenly realize they've been tricked.

I still see land.

Turn the plane.

Now, Captain Abate has no choice.

He turns his plane East over the open ocean.

As the ocean unfolds below him, the captain

begins forming another plan.

I had no chart nearby because it was on the co-pilot's side.

So I had a small atlas, so I took that atlas,

and I saw the Comoros Island.

Nestled between the African continent and the island

of Madagascar is their only hope,

the Comoros Islands, a remote vacation playground

in the Indian Ocean.

I had no idea where that place was.

I never heard of the word Comoros before.

I just headed towards it.

It was a guess.

The Comoros Islands are his last chance to land safely.

We sat, and we just sat and sat for hours.

I tried to read the newspaper but couldn't concentrate

on it because I was nervous.

I wondered how much extra fuel we

had because the rule of thumb is you

have enough for the alternative airport,

and they're supposed to have an extra 45 minutes of fuel

beyond that.

So roughly three hours or so of fuel they had to have.

And so, after we had flown three hours,

I began to get nervous.

Suddenly, an alarm breaks the tense silence in the cockpit.

It's a warning that the plane has less

than 30 minutes of fuel left.

I need to tell the passengers.

There's no need.

You know what I'm going to tell them?

It's out of my control.

The aircraft is going to crash. - Do you want to die?

We're going to die anyway.

So shall we kill you?

No more talking.

Don't worry.

I have the ax.

Please, at least let us attempt a controlled landing.

I will die along with him.

I will show him that I have guts.

It's finished.

We will die together.

With almost no fuel, Abate decides to make his stand.

We came over to the island.

By then, fuel was running out.

I decided, no, we should not go any further than this one,

and I started circling that area.

But how can he convince the hijackers to let him land?

He'll have to find an answer soon,

or flight 961 will crash into the sea.

At stake, the lives of all 175 people on board.

They took whisky from the duty-free,

and they wanted me to drink, actually, but I refused.

Once again, alarms sound.

One engine is now completely out of fuel.

It's shutting down.

Captain Abate is quickly running out of time.

With the airplane being at 39,000 feet in cruise flight,

the airplane is not going to run

out of gas with each engine simultaneously.

There'll probably be a bit of a lag, which, in this case,

there was.

The right engine stop functioning first.

Abate follows standard emergency procedures.

He starts the APU or Auxiliary Power Unit.

It's a generator that can supply extra electrical power

when one engine is lost.

With thrust from only one engine,

the aircraft immediately slows down.

At a lower speed, the wings do not provide as much lift.

Abate must descend to an altitude

where the air is thicker.

Denser air means the wings can provide enough lift to keep

the aircraft flying level.

The plane continues to descend.

Even with only one engine, and despite the drop in altitude,

the tiny Comoros Islands are still within reach

of the crippled airliner.

There is an airport at the capital Maroney.

If he can convince the hijackers,

Abate could land there.

It's gone down 1,000.

When the engine stops, it descends.

It will descend whether you like it or not.

Alone in the cockpit, captain Abate

takes a dangerous chance.

He explains the situation to everyone on board.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot.

We have run out of fuel, and we are

losing an engine at this time.

We're going to make a crash landing.

When the pilot came onto the public address system

and said that he had no alternative but to crash land,

that is when it actually dawned on us,

and we realized that this was a life and death situation.

Captain Abate also makes a desperate call for help.

We have already lost one of the engines.

He wants the passengers to overpower the hijackers

so he can land the plane.

I ask all passengers to react to the hijackers.

Thank you.

Captain Abate knows the call for help is a huge risk.

Even though I was expecting some kind

of movement in the cabin, but I had to do my job.

I was doing what I had to do, keep the airplane in control,

fly it.

While captain Abate waits for action,

the passengers are more confused than ever.

He said react against the hijackers,

which is an odd phraseology.

Nobody reacted.

I think part of it was the way he said it was not sort

of a normal way in English that you would ask someone to take

on the hijackers, but he also was

trying to do it enough so they wouldn't

notice what he was saying.

At least one of the passengers does understand.

As a news cameraman, Mo Amin has never

shied away from a challenge.

Amin makes his way to the economy section

in the rear of the plane.

Here is a man who had spent 20 or 30 years in some

of the most difficult and dangerous war

zones of the world, who'd been beaten up, who'd been shot at,

who'd been jailed.

He was a kind of alpha male, if you know what I mean.

He could talk anybody into anything.

He made it like he was going to the bathroom,

and then he came back, and he started

talking to people who were three

or four seats ahead of me.

And from these gestures and actions,

he was trying to get us to stand

up against the hijackers.

With your help, we can take them.

There's only three of them.

Come on.

Come on.

Not knowing what would happen,

not knowing what these people were capable of doing,

and, of course, the fact that they

had indicated that they would blow up the plane if anybody

tried anything.

Always, always have to measure,

am I going to make the situation better,

or am I going to make it worse?

Who's ready to take the chance that your precipitous action

against the hijacker might not cause him

to set that explosive device off

and take the life of everybody on board the plane?

In the end, the passengers choose not to act.

Captain Abate is still alone against the hijackers.

In the cockpit, the hijackers try

to take control in a vain attempt

to keep the plane in the air.

It's descending.

Don't worry.

I'm not the one who's doing that.

Inadvertently, one of the hijackers

disconnects the autopilot.

The plane swerves wildly.

Don't move.

Listen.

I am not applying any motion.

The aircraft is doing it by itself.

He was trying to fly the airplane,

he was trying to disconnect the autopilot,

all sorts of things.

This is all over.

We will drop in the ocean.

31?

Abate makes another attempt to explain

the desperate situation to the hijackers.

Perhaps they will finally allow him

to land at the nearby airport.

This is zero, and this is coming to zero.

I prayed to God, I wish I wasn't in this situation.

Now, I am in it, but help me to save these people.

Ladies and gentlemen, please sit down

and fasten your seat belts.

Do not panic.

I am starting to say, oh, I love you, dear.

It's been a good ride.

My wife is sort of unsentimental psychiatric

nurse, and she tells me, get up, stand up, get our bag down

from the overhead, pull out your extra glasses,

put them in your pocket, and get some food for me,

and I want this, this, and this food.

She carefully picked things that

wouldn't make her thirsty.

She said there's not going to be any meal

service once we hit the water.

Finally, the plane runs out of fuel.

So you're killing everyone.

Stanislaw, sit down.

From now on, you can't do anything to me.

What?

From now on, you can do nothing to me.

That's it.

Both engines are out.

That's it.

Is this what you wanted?

This $40 million aircraft has become a 100-ton glider.

The plane is out of fuel, and Abate is out of options.

A crash landing in the sea is all but inevitable.

The loss of engine power starts rippling through the plane.

As well as driving the jet through the skies,

the engines supply power to most

of the electrical and hydraulic systems.

Without the engines, the computer screens,

automatic pilot, and many other functions of the plane

stop working.

Although the engines are now useless,

a low-tech backup system allows the pilot

to retain some control.

The Ram Air Turbine, or RAT, is the last line of defense

when all the engines fail.

A small trap door automatically opens, in the turbine,

a small propeller pops out.

The rushing air turns the propeller like a windmill,

generating just enough electrical power

for basic flight instruments and controls,

including airspeed.

Since it was power off, that means

there was no electrical or hydraulic power,

the controls were heavy.

The turbine doesn't provide enough power for Abate

to operate the flaps, which would help slow

the plane down for landing.

Wherever he lands, captain Abate will have to do so

at a dangerously high speed.

Power of landing and power of ditching, nobody's

trained in the world.

Flying over the water, you need accurate instruments.

I didn't have any of the instruments.

Without engines, a large passenger jet

can glide 11 and 1/2 miles for every 3,300 feet of altitude

it loses.

At 21,000 feet, the Ethiopian Airlines

plane can travel for nearly 75 miles

before it hits the ground.

One of the things that the captain's got to worry

about now is with both engines shut down,

the airplane is going to go down.

It's just a matter of where, and that's

going to be controlled by the pilot flying.

It's an extremely dangerous situation few pilots

in the world have ever faced.

In 1983, another 767 pilot found himself

in a similar predicament.

Air Canada flight 143 ran out of fuel

and landed on an abandoned Air Force base,

sustaining only minor damage.

In the right circumstances, a safe landing without power

is possible.

Captain Abate hopes to land at the airport

in the Comoros Islands, but struggling

against the hijackers.

On the final turn, he loses his bearings

and can't locate the runway.

It was within the vicinity of the airport,

so I was skipping the airport in my sight all the time.

Then through the struggle, I lost my position.

I lost where I was.

In the critical seconds it takes to find the airport

again, he loses too much altitude

and doesn't know if he can make it to a runway.

A water landing is now his only option.

Landing on the ocean is even more dangerous than bringing

a plane down on the ground.

If you were trying to crash land on the ground,

the airplane would have a surface to slide across.

That surface does not exist when you're ditching

the airplane in water.

The airplane is going to touch down on the water

and then at some point, it's going to dig in to that water.

When that happens, the airplane is going

to try to stop instantly.

In trying to bring his plane down safely,

Abate faces unique challenges.

Planes such as the DC 9 have flat bottoms,

which would skim the surface of the ocean on landing,

slowing down more smoothly.

But the engines on Abate's 767 hang underneath the body.

They could act as enormous scoops,

grabbing hold of the water as the rest of the plane

plows ahead.

The force would tear the plane apart.

It was getting hotter and hotter,

so we started to sweat because I guess

the air conditioning system was not working

since there was no power.

And that's when people started to scream, started to panic,

looking for life jackets, praying to Jesus,

praying to Allah.

Some ladies were asking people to go and plead

with the hijackers, not realizing

that it wouldn't make any difference

at this particular time.

We didn't have any fuel, and that was it.

We're going down.

But I guess at that time, your hope is all you have.

We're descending fairly rapidly.

The plane is lurching wildly a couple of times.

They're fighting up in the cockpit for the controls.

It's my responsibility.

The passengers must know what's going on.

Descend and increase the speed.

It doesn't make any difference.

Please, all the same, we're going to die.

Please, maintain calm.

Prepare for an emergency landing.

Put on your life jackets but do not inflate them.

Some passengers either don't hear

the captain's instructions or decide to ignore them.

They inflate their jackets.

I heard a pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop

back in the tourist class, and everybody

panicked and inflated their life jackets.

I actually got up on my seat and told

people don't inflate your life jackets inside the plane.

At the front of the plane, Mo Amin

tries a last ditch attempt to negotiate with the hijackers.

No.

Sit down.

Mo had a desire to dominate every situation he was in.

In a situation like that, it would be murder

talking to the hijackers.

He would be negotiating with the hijackers.

He would be, I'm sure, trying to get the other passengers

to face these guys down.

But Amin's efforts have no effect.

The hijackers are determined to let the aircraft crash.

Then for the first time since the hijacking began,

Captain Abate gets some help.

The controls, I need help.

They are too heavy.

We told them, guys, now we are on the last point.

You should sit down and fasten your seat belts.

They refused.

I never thought I would ditch in my lifetime.

I never thought I would lose two engines and ditch

in the middle of an ocean.

Outside in the window, you could see land

at the last minute, and we realized

that we were, for the first time,

that we were near land but over water.

I used to love that airplane.

We used to call it Zulu.

In my heart, I was talking to it.

So I said, Zulu, you can make it.

Now, you should be able to.

I know you'll make it.

I was talking to it.

On the beach, tourists are stunned.

The horror of the crash is captured

on one of their video cameras.

The plane is flying at more than 230 miles per hour

when it hits the water.

Oh.

Oh, my god.

The first bump, fairly gentle, and I sort of breathed

a sigh of relief, wow.

As soon as we touched the water, it was quite violent.

Then the second bump was like a 30-mile-an-hour

auto accident.

I had a feeling the plane was not going to hold.

The third bump, I said, uh-oh,

I'm dead, and I blacked out.

Oh, my god.

Oh, no.

The ditching was very rough.

The aircraft broke apart into three pieces.

The cockpit broke off and the tail end broke

off, so we started to go down.

There was water gushing in from both sides.

Passengers who survived the initial impact struggled to

escape the shattered wreckage.

As water pours in, people who have

already inflated their life jackets become trapped.

The water pushes them towards the ceiling of the plane.

In that kind of panic, people do all sorts of things

that maybe are not rational.

The life jackets make it very difficult to swim underwater.

Many passengers can't escape the sinking cabin.

The aircraft was full of water.

I have no fear of water, having done competitive swimming

in school.

And I went for my seat belt, and I couldn't find

the buckle, so I moved my hand down to my knee

and found it, pulled it open, and I pushed out.

And I looked at the back of the aircraft.

I could see some light at the end,

and I decided to swim out in that direction.

As I swam out, one of the passengers trying to get out

of the seat grabbed my leg.

And I said to myself, oh, my god,

this can cause me to drown, but I decided not to fight back.

And they pulled themselves out and let go of my leg.

And then I continued to swim out the back of the aircraft

and swam to the surface.

I was really exhausted.

I felt very tired.

When I looked up, I said, OK, could this be heaven?

Because I wasn't really sure whether I was alive or dead.

I was trying to tell the co-pilot to get out,

then he was not there.

Then I said, OK, then it's about time for me to go out.

I woke up, I was floating in the water,

and I went, hey, I'm alive.

I look for my wife who had been sitting on my right,

and she was gone, and my heart sank.

Then I looked to my left, and she was now on my left she had

swirled around and swapped.

We were out floating in the ocean.

You can see what looks like an uninhabited cliff.

It might be a tropical island.

It's like a movie, you know.

When I leveled out and looked at sea level,

I saw all these boats, these tourist boats,

beautiful sails and all that, and I said,

I must still be on Earth.

As I swam towards the beach, I saw this passport,

which was a Kenyan passport.

And I stopped and opened the passport,

and believe it or not, it was mine.

So I took the passport and folded it

and put it in my pocket and continued to swim.

Oddenyo makes his way to a floating panel of cargo

that's burst loose from the plane.

He pulls himself on top and waits for rescue.

The plane was destroyed, ripped into several pieces.

I saw things scattered around me, the tail of the airplane

far away from me.

I never expected something like would happen.

All I was expecting was to evacuate the passengers safely

and myself.

Abate swims to safety, but he has no idea

how successful he's been.

He doesn't know whether any of his passengers have survived

or what's happened to the hijackers.

For those who survive the crash,

Abate's decision to ditch the plane near the shore

means that although the airliner breaks into pieces,

it doesn't sink very far.

Come on.

Fortunately, the water was very shallow.

In some cases, people were able to get out.

Locals and tourists swarm out to the downed aircraft.

A group of scuba divers, who narrowly

missed being hit by the aircraft,

help with the rescue effort.

In an amazing stroke of good luck,

some French doctors are staying at the resort.

They offer immediate medical assistance.

In the end, of the 175 people on board the plane,

50 survive.

Without the actions of Abate, many more could have died.

With no power and unable to use his flaps,

Captain Abate lands at 230 miles per hour,

over 60 miles per hour above the normal landing

speed of a 767.

Once the captain made the decision that he had to ditch,

the best thing that he could do was keep the airplane

as close to land as possible.

Abate also tried to make the landing as smooth as possible.

At the last moment, he turned the jet,

hoping to land parallel to the waves

instead of crashing into them.

As soon as the plane hit the water,

it was ripped out of Abate's control.

The airplane touched down left wing low,

so the left wing actually grabbed the water.

The 767's massive low-slung engine dug into the water,

spinning the plane around.

The airplane would have wanted

to turn around that left wing or cartwheel.

That's a lot of energy to dissipate very quickly.

That's what caused the break up sequence.

The airplane broke up into four or five pieces,

and that's what caused a lot of the fatalities.

Panic may also have contributed

to the number of deaths.

Disregarding Abate's instructions,

many passengers inflated their life jackets.

The life vest wants to keep you buoyant

or try to drive you straight up,

and that could hamper and restrict your ability

to get out of your seat.

In some cases, people were still strapped in their seat

when the airplane sank, and they unfortunately drowned.

Mo Amin, who had tried to rally the passengers

against the hijackers was standing

up when the plane crashed.

He was probably thrown against a bulkhead, dying instantly.

Mo had survived everything.

He had more than nine lives.

And the idea that he should just

be on an ordinary standard flight

when the kind of news story that he wasn't aware of,

hadn't been assigned to caught up with him,

and to be killed in this way, has a kind

of horrid irony about it.

The hijackers, who refused to sit for the landing,

also died in the crash.

In the days after the disaster,

other pieces of the puzzle become clearer.

Despite claims by the hijackers that there were 11 of them,

in fact, there were only three, but who

were these desperate men, and what were their motives?

They were imprisoned, thrown in jail,

persecuted, and tortured by the government.

They didn't specify which government, at least

to the best of my understanding,

and that they had escaped from jail,

and that they were going to make history.

They said they have friends in Australia,

and they want to get united with them.

They wanted to go into a second country

where they get the refugee status

and have a better living.

Before 9/11, it was remarkably easy for hijackers

to gain access to pilots.

If you don't do what we say, we'll blow

this plane out of the sky.

Despite numerous hijackings over the previous two decades,

most airlines made no attempt to secure the cockpit.

Do you want to die?

We're going to die anyway.

So shall we kill you?

The hijackers of Flight 961 were

never linked to any terrorist group

or political organization.

Whatever their reasons, their crime

demonstrated the great danger posed by a hijacker who places

no value on his own life.

We will die together.

For years, there were people in security

saying we have to strengthen that cockpit door.

We have to be able to exclude anyone

from coming through that door and getting

control of that aircraft.

Whatever the reason, whether the airlines didn't want

to spend money, they didn't see it as a threat,

it didn't happen.

After 9/11, every aircraft now has

done that that carries passengers

that has that capability of being hijacked.

Nothing is inevitable.

Nobody is immune to anything.

It could be one in a million, but it can happen.

Both Captain Leul Abate and his co-pilot Yonas Mekuria

received many tributes for their actions on flight 961,

including a Flight Safety Foundation Award.

I said, it's good that I am alive in the world that

has understood what I had gone through.

Despite their ordeal, both Abate

and his co-pilot Mekuria continued to work

for Ethiopian Airlines.