Impact (41 page)

Judge Powell tugged his ear in a gesture familiar to Hawthorne, indicative of irritation. “It's the reason he went in business for himself. The jury can accept it for whatever they think it's worth.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Tollison smiled and, on the strength of the minor victory, Livingood seemed to relax. “Let me direct your attention to the evening of March twenty-third, 1987,” Tollison continued. “Did you have occasion to visit the site of the crash of SurfAir flight 617 on that occasion?”

“I did.”

“Why did you go to the site?”

“I was asked to. And paid to.”

“By whom?”

“An attorney named Daniel Griffin.”

“Who is Mr. Griffin?”

“At that time, he was an attorney in the law office of Alec Hawthorne.”

At the mention of the name, Livingood probed the courtroom, clearly hoping Hawthorne's warning that he would not be in attendance would prove false and the audience would include someone who could save the day if matters took a disturbing turn. That his search ended in disappointment was evident from the distinctly civilian sag to Livingood's broad shoulders.

“Who is Alec Hawthorne?” Tollison continued.

“An attorney here in San Francisco. He's probably the foremost aviation attorney in America.”

Hawthorne basked in the compliment until a curl to Judge Powell's upper lip made him wonder if his machinations weren't an open book that would soon be thrown at him in the wrappers of a contempt citation.

“What did Mr. Griffin ask you to do at the scene of the crash, Mr. Livingood?”

Chambers spoke from his seat. “Hearsay.”

Powell consulted the ceiling. “I'll allow it. It goes to his state of mind.”

Livingood nodded his concurrence. “Mr. Griffin told me he'd just heard about the crash on the news and that I should get there as soon as I could and go through the usual routine.”

“You had previously performed similar services for Mr. Griffin?”

“Several times. For the Hawthorne law firm, actually.”

“What did your routine involve?”

“Inspecting the site, examining the wreckage, taking statements, getting still photos and videotape, talking to federal investigators—basically, learning all I could about what happened.”

This time it was Tollison who chose to scan the courtroom, his glance sweeping the crowd until, like a searchlight atop a prison wall, it zeroed on its target. When Hawthorne nodded an imperceptible encouragement, the light moved on.

“I'd like to go more specifically into your qualifications for this undertaking, Mr. Livingood.”

“Fine.”

“Please tell us about your educational background.”

“I received a B.S. from Iowa State University in 1960, a master's in electrical engineering from Purdue in 1962, and a Ph.D. in aeronautical engineering from the University of Washington in 1966. I was an army aviator from 1966 to 1970, flying a variety of propeller-driven aircraft during two tours in Vietnam, mostly on recon missions. I hold both a commercial and instructor's rating for single- and twin-engine aircraft and rotocraft. I own my own plane and fly it frequently.”

“Did you organize Aviation Investigations, Inc. right after you left the service?”

“No, after the military I was hired by the National Transportation Safety Board as an air safety investigator specializing in aircraft structures.”

“The NTSB is an arm of the government?”

“The NTSB is given the mandate, in Title 49 of the United States Code, to investigate the facts, conditions, and circumstances of civil aviation accidents.”

“So your job with the government was to do what you do today—determine the cause of plane crashes.”

“That's correct.”

“Approximately how many crashes did you investigate while you were with the NTSB?”

“Over one hundred.”

“And how many have you investigated since you founded your company, Aviation Investigations, Inc.?”

“Over fifty.”

“While you were with the NTSB, did you receive any training in accident investigation?”

“I attended the six-week course in basic investigation at the board school in Oklahoma, and later the two-week advanced course. I also attended numerous seminars on investigative techniques.”

“How long were you with the NTSB, Mr. Livingood?”

“From 1971 through 1976.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Objection, irrelevant.”

“Sustained.”

Tollison frowned and consulted his notes. “What is the relationship between the NTSB and the Federal Aviation Administration?”

“The NTSB makes recommendations to the FAA as to what new or amended regulations it deems advisable, primarily in the area of safety. The FAA propounds the federal regulations that control both general and commercial aviation in this country.”

Chambers clambered to his feet, his forehead rippled with disgust “Have I stumbled into a political-science class, Your Honor? The relevance of this is sufficiently obscure as to be invisible.”

“Yes, Mr. Tollison. Let's move ahead, please.”

Reddening from his chastisement, Tollison grew flustered. In the silence following the ruling, his glance again swiveled to the rear. When it reached its target, Hawthorne began to fidget. It would take only a few more sorties before Chambers would cry foul.

As Chambers was queried by an assistant, Hawthorne slid to where he could signal Tollison that he was doing just fine. When he received the message, Tollison blinked and asked a question. “What time did you arrive at the crash site on the night of March twenty-third, Mr. Livingood?”

“Approximately eight-fifteen.”

“Please tell us what you saw that indicated what happened to the aircraft from the moment it struck the ground.”

“Objection—irrelevant.”

“Overruled.”

Having apparently concluded that Tollison's inexperience was not so vast that it was a threat to his livelihood, Livingood turned to the jurors as though they had waited in long lines to hear him. “Amazingly enough, considering the topography of the region, the Hastings touched down in a reasonably level area. There was slight upslope at the point of impact—maybe two degrees—but nothing like the bluffs and falloffs that mark much of the terrain in that area. Though visibility wasn't good that night—less than a thousand feet—by luck or skill, the pilot found a decent place to set her down.”

“Do you conclude that the pilot attempted to make an emergency landing?”

Chambers was up again. “Objection. No foundation.”

“Sustained.”

Chastened, Tollison closed his eyes and nodded. “Your Honor, at this time I wish to tender Mr. Livingood as an expert witness.”

Judge Powell smiled a grandfatherly approbation. “Do you wish to voir dire his qualifications, Mr. Chambers?”

Chambers stood up. “I do, Your Honor. Mr. Livingood, isn't it true that your primary experience both at the NTSB and in your private business has been in determining the proximate cause of plane crashes?”

“I'd say that's true.”

“Yet you've been told by Mr. Tollison, have you not, that the cause of
this
crash is not at issue in this trial.”

“I have.”

“So whatever you are about to say here is not within the purview of your past experience.”

Livingood's jaw set and his chest expanded. “I wouldn't say that at all.”

Chambers pivoted from the protest. “Move to strike the testimony and to excuse the witness, Your Honor.”

Before Tollison could rebut, Powell addressed the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am overruling Mr. Chambers's objection and allowing Mr. Livingood to testify as an expert in this case. I do so because he has certain knowledge, experience, and training that enable him to give opinions that may assist you in your task. In determining what weight to give such opinions, you should consider the qualifications and believability of the witness, the materials upon which his opinions are based, and the reasons for each opinion. You are not bound by any opinion given in this case, by this witness or any other. An opinion is only as good as the facts and reasons on which it is based. If you find that any such fact has not been proved or has been disproved, you must consider that in determining the value of the opinion.” Pausing to assure himself that the jury had understood the admonition, he pointed a finger. “Proceed, Mr. Tollison.”

Looking hugely pleased, Tollison nodded. “Please answer the question, Mr. Livingood. Do you feel the pilot of flight 617 was attempting an emergency landing?”

“Based upon my estimation of the angle and speed of descent, the place of impact, and the direction of travel once the aircraft touched down, plus the absence of any failure in the cockpit controls, I feel certain the pilot was attempting to land the aircraft safely.”

“Upon what do you base the estimate of speed?”

“Upon the length of the gouge in the earth made by the aircraft after impact, the angle of upslope, and the weight of the aircraft. I estimate that the speed at impact was between one hundred and one hundred forty miles per hour.”

“Is there any other fact that indicates to you that the pilot was attempting a safe landing?”

Livingood nodded. “The Hastings touched down in an open area. Some two hundred feet east-northeast of that point is a small stand of conifers that are some forty feet opposite a stone outcropping. The pilot, in my judgment, attempted to steer between those obstacles. Unfortunately, there was not adequate clearance. The wings struck the obstacles virtually simultaneously, causing the aircraft to break apart.”

“In other words, the—”

“Objection, leading.”

“Sustained.”

Tollison changed course. “Can you be more specific?”

Despite their truce, Livingood seemed to enjoy Tollison's comeuppance. “Basically, the plane attempted to scoot between some trees and the rocks, and it didn't make it. The wings hit, and the plane stopped dead except for the forward portion—that is, the portion of the fuselage in front of the wings. That section broke away and continued some fifty feet up the hill, where it hit another rock formation and was badly smashed. The rear two thirds of the fuselage remained at the point where the wings struck the trees and the rocks.”

Tollison approached the witness box. “Mr. Livingood, I show you an item marked Plaintiff's Exhibit One, which purports to be a model of a Hastings H-11 fan-jet like the one that crashed on March twenty-third. To your knowledge, is this model similar to that aircraft?”

“It is. Except for this place where the model has been cut in two.”

“Right. Now, would you show the jury approximately where that plane broke apart when the wings struck the trees and rocks.”

“Objection, Your Honor. No foundation.”

“This is illustrative only, Your Honor. A visual aid.”

Powell nodded. “Overruled. The jury will give the demonstration whatever weight they feel it is worth.”

“There.” Livingood divided the plane at the point where the wings attached to the fuselage.

“Addressing your attention to the rear portion of the fuselage at the point where it broke away from the forward portion, can you describe what you saw in that area when you inspected it at the site?”

“Yes. First, there was a fire burning in and around the area; it obviously had been ablaze for some time.”

“What caused the fire, if you know?”

“The wing tanks had ruptured, and the spilled fuel had ignited.”

“Was there fire both inside and outside the cabin?”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

Livingood donned a mask of sympathy. “As is typical of a major crash, there was a mass of mangled metal, a web of wiring and hydraulic hose, scraps of baggage and clothing. Human remains, of course. And fortunately, some survivors.”

“Had any passengers been thrown free of their seats?”

“Some, but the majority were still strapped in.”

“How about the seats themselves?”

“Virtually all the seats had come loose from the airframe and been thrown against the forward bulkhead.”

“Along with the passengers strapped in them.”

“Yes.”

“So that they endured a second impact.”

“Yes.”

“How about the overhead compartments?”

“They had broken open as well; baggage was scattered all over.”

“In the area of the front bulkhead?”

“Most of it. Yes.”

“Would you indicate the position of the bulkhead on the model? Thank you. The bulkhead is, among other things, the partition which divides first class from tourist class in the plane, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Tollison nodded and looked at his notes. “In your work as an expert in this area, have you had occasion to define the term
survivable accident
, Mr. Livingood?”

“We utilized such a concept at the NTSB and I've employed it since, as a working definition.”

“What is that definition?”

“May I read from my notes?”

“Yes.”

“At the NTSB, we considered a survivable accident to be one in which the forces transmitted to the occupant through his seat and restraint system do not exceed the limits of human tolerance to abrupt decelerations and in which the structure of the occupant's immediate environment remains substantially intact to the extent that a livable volume is provided for the occupant through the crash sequence.”

“Are there any other definitions of a survivable accident that you're aware of?”

“NASA uses a three-part test: if a survivable volume of the airframe is maintained during impact and at least one occupant did not die from trauma and the passenger had the potential for egress, then the crash is considered by NASA to be survivable.”

“Thank you.” Tollison glanced at Laura. Buoyed by her smile, he read from his notes. “Mr. Livingood, based upon your education, training, and experience, and upon what you observed at the crash site, do you have an opinion whether the crash of flight 617 was survivable under either or both of the definitions you have just enunciated?”