Brett knew the lawsuit was the only legitimate way he could get revenge against Boeing and USAir. He thought that the companies knew about the 737’s rudder defects and rolled the dice with passengers’ lives, believing that the malfunction would not occur again. In his view, they made life-and-death decisions for innocent people and seemed to be accountable to no one. Boeing and USAir seemed to think they were above the law.
In his lowest moments during the months following the crash, he became so angry that he briefly fantasized about committing some act of violence against Boeing, to put the company and its families through the same horror he was going through. Those thoughts of personal vengeance and violence were short-lived, however. He realized that the only legal way to retaliate was to hurt the companies in their balance sheets, to win an award so large it would hurt their bottom lines. He hoped an expensive settlement would pressure Boeing to fix the problems with its airplanes. He figured the company might decide it was cheaper to fix the planes than to become involved in additional lawsuits.
Associated Aviation Underwriters, the airline’s insurance company, had begun settling cases in January 1995 for an estimated $2 million each. But Brett was in no hurry. He had received about $800,000 from Joan’s insurance policies and workers’ compensation coverage. He used some of it to set up a scholarship fund in Joan’s name to send a young woman from her hometown to the University of Iowa. He also set up college trust funds for each of Joan’s ten nieces and nephews. He felt Joan would want him to do positive things with the money. He said, “I want her life to have a contribution to this world.”
A beep-beep-beep echoed through the USAir hangar in Pittsburgh as the front-end loader tilted the giant Dumpster and then drove in reverse, emptying it on a plastic tarp. The contents came out as a muddy, solid block, like a brown ice cube popped out of a tray. It was March 6, 1995, still so cold that the fifteen volunteers could see their breath.
The volunteers, from the NTSB, USAir, and families of the victims, had come to recover passengers’ belongings from the frozen mess. Hundreds of items—watches, teddy bears, books, wallets, and jewelry—had already been returned to families. But many other items had mistakenly been thrown in the trash bin and left outside during the frigid winter. Leaders of the family group, the Flight 427 Air Disaster Support League, had been complaining for months that they didn’t get back all the items they should have. After they saw the big trash bins during a visit to the hangar, they kept pestering USAir and the safety board until they got permission to look inside.
The families were still furious with USAir. Not only were they angry about the airline’s performance immediately after the crash, but they were also unhappy with the company’s decisions about the crash memorial and a burial service. When the airline held a service for the burial of unidentified human remains, families could see two caskets. But the airline did not mention that thirty-eight other caskets had already been buried. USAir, which had followed the advice of the Pennsylvania Funeral Directors Association, said it was trying to be sensitive by avoiding the display of lots of caskets, but the families said they had been deceived.
The memorial was also a point of controversy. Shortly after the crash, USAir had announced that it might buy the Hopewell site to build a monument. That pleased many family members, who wanted a place that would honor their relatives. Several had launched a separate effort to buy the land, but they put their plans on hold when they heard that USAir was interested. The airline scrapped the idea, however, and instead chose to provide three big tombstones at a cemetery ten miles from the crash site.
The granite monument read: IN LOVING MEMORY OF OUR FAMILY MEMBERS AND FRIENDS INTERRED HERE WHO DIED SEPTEMBER 8, 1994.
Many of the families were unhappy with that inscription. It did not mention the crash or Flight 427. Once again, the airline’s efforts to be sensitive had backfired. (The airline then built a granite bench across from the monument with the inscription THIS MEMORIAL IS DEDICATED TO THE PASSENGERS AND CREW ON USAIR FLIGHT 427.)
The families were also upset at USAir for refusing to bring the first batch of personal effects to the Hilton during the January public hearing. The relatives had said it would be more convenient to go through them at the hotel, but the airline had refused. USAir officials were afraid the media-savvy family group would turn the whole thing into a big spectacle, with mangled personal effects displayed for the TV cameras.
With all of the other mistakes USAir had made, it was natural to blame the airline for leaving the items in the Dumpster. Mike Benson, an NTSB spokesperson, tried to direct the blame that way, telling the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette that the NTSB presumed there was nothing valuable inside, since USAir employees had looked through the Dumpster. But USAir said the trash bins were the safety board’s responsibility. The truth was that no one realized there was anything valuable inside. The NTSB investigators were intent on finding significant parts from the plane. The material in the Dumpster looked like burned trash. Haueter knew there were burned, shredded clothes inside, but he never thought a family member might want them back.
“May I have your attention, please!” Cindy Keegan, the NTSB investigator who headed the structures group, called to the volunteers. “What we’re looking for here are any personal articles, whether it be a watch or whatever.”
One person saw a muddy piece of clothing in the pile and asked, “Did you say you wanted clothing?”
Yes, she said, they should pick out anything that belonged to the people on the plane.
The volunteers wore white coveralls and gloves. A few wore surgical masks, a remnant from the worries about biohazards. John Kretz and Marita Brunner, the leaders of the family group, stood at the back of the pile. When volunteers brought something, Brunner cleaned off the mud and wrote a description of the item on her clipboard:
Casio multi-function calculator—telephone directory, etc.
Sony Microcassette recorder
Woman’s yellow vinyl damask manicure set
Pink hair brush
Speedo eye goggles—swimming
Garage door opener Master Mechanic 750MM K722
Green and white striped Dept. of Energy golf umbrella
Accutron man’s watch
Macintosh Users Guide for Macintosh PowerBook 160/180
Man’s manicure set/maroon leather case
Golf balls—1 Top Flite Logo Reedsburg Country Club; 2 Titleist; 3 Blue Max Trumbull Marriott; 1 Maxfli DDH-100
2 hair brushes, 1 Avon
1 pair scissors
A surprising number of items had passengers’ names on them. Dennis Dixon, whose wife was killed in the crash, found her shredded briefcase. The volunteers found a luggage tag and business card for David Huxford, a Maryland computer consultant who was heading home after a business trip. They found Kevin Rimmell’s Blockbuster Video card and Dewitt Worrell’s business card holder.
They also found three fragments of human bones.
15. STALLED
The phone rang just as Haueter and his wife, Trisha Dedik, were headed out on a Friday night. It was Ron Schleede, one of Haueter’s bosses. Within minutes, Haueter and Schleede had a three-way call going with Greg Phillips, the systems group chairman. For two hours, they talked about the latest developments in the USAir case and where they should go next. So much for Haueter and Dedik’s Friday night plans.