The story emerging from the crash of Air India Flight 171 is growing stranger everyday.
First, it
was fuel switches. Then, a catastrophic double engine failure. Now, there’s a new theory—one
that’s both deeply troubling and highly controversial.
According to several media reports, one of the pilots may have been in emotional distress due to
a recent divorce. The implication? That the crash was a deliberate act of suicide.
But is that claim based on facts? Or is it something more dangerous—a calculated attempt to
shift blame away from Boeing, to a dead man who can no longer defend himself?
Let’s break it down.
In recent days, headlines and expert commentary began floating a claim that stunned even
seasoned aviation professionals: that one of the pilots, Captain Sumeet Sabharwal, may have
intentionally crashed the aircraft in an apparent suicide attempt—allegedly driven by emotional
distress following a recent divorce.
The rumor gained traction quickly after Captain Mohan Ranganathan, a senior aviation analyst,
appeared on NDTV citing the cockpit voice recorder. He pointed to the possibility that one of the
fuel control switches—found in the cutoff position—was manually pulled, perhaps by a crew
member acting alone
Now the pilot suicide theory isn’t new in aviation
But the cases were very different..
In 2013, the captain of LAM Mozambique Airlines Flight 470 reportedly locked the co-pilot
out of the cockpit and manually set the aircraft into a fatal descent, killing all 33 people onboard.
The final report confirmed it as a deliberate act.
again In 2015, Germanwings Flight 9525 was crashed into the French Alps by co-pilot Andreas
Lubitz, who had a documented history of depression. He locked the captain out of the cockpit
before initiating a controlled descent into mountainous terrain, killing 150 people.
So naturally, the idea of intentional sabotage by a pilot raises alarms. But these previous
incidents had strong supporting evidence: suicidal notes, mental health records, cockpit audio
showing one pilot locking the other out of the cockpit. But In the case of Air India 171? none of
that.
There’s no known psychological evaluation pointing to instability. No medical red flags. And
most importantly— the cockpit voice recorder doesn’t confirm suicide.
According to the Aircraft Accident Investigation Bureau’s (AAIB) preliminary findings, both
fuel control switches—the physical levers that regulate fuel supply to the engines— switches
controlling fuel flow to the jets two engine were turned off leading to an apparent loss of thrust
shortly after the takeoff. Normally, engine spin down takes 30 to 60 seconds at altitude. But in
this case, the RAT came out just four to five seconds after liftoff.
Now to put that in context ,these are not buttons or touchscreen commands. These are heavily
guarded, spring-loaded switches that require three deliberate movements: grasp, lift, pull. They
are designed so that no turbulence, elbow, or accidental bump could activate them.
Now here’s where it gets strange.
According to the flight data recorder, both fuel control switches moved from “run” to “cutoff”
with a gap of just one second. That’s barely enough time for a person to complete the complex
physical action needed. Even for a trained pilot, reaching across the cockpit to perform this
sequence on both switches would take longer than one second..
Also, There is no checklist that calls for this action so early in a flight. The only known
procedure that involves shutting down both engines—moving the switches to cutoff—is at
cruising altitude, and only as part of an attempted engine restart after a dual flameout.
But this wasn’t cruising altitude.
This was takeoff.
After the fuel was cut, the RAT—the Ram Air Turbine—deployed. This small emergency
generator only activates when both engines fail, the electrical system collapses, or hydraulics
shut down.
It deployed just five seconds after takeoff.
That confirmed to investigators that both engines were effectively starved of fuel—nearly
instantly.
According to flight data, the pilots attempted to recover. Both fuel control switches were flipped
back to the “run” position—a clear effort to restart the engines. One engine came back to partial
life. The other didn’t. But it wasn’t enough. The aircraft was too low, too heavy, and moving too
slowly. Within seconds, it crashed into buildings beyond the runway.
So, Could This Be pilot Error?
Theoretically—yes.
But that explanation quickly begins to fall apart under scrutiny.
Experts emphasize that pilots undergo rigorous training for engine-out scenarios. These drills are
repeated constantly in simulators to ensure pilots respond with precision under pressure. And
under no circumstance is a pilot trained to touch a fuel control switch before reaching the
designated engine-out altitude—typically 1,000 feet above ground level. Below that, the priority
is always: fly the aircraft. No checklists. No fuel switch toggling.
Even in the heat of the moment, even under immense stress, both pilots flipping both fuel
switches at the same time defies training, checklists, and decades of incident data.
Moreover, India’s pilot associations and global pilot unions have forcefully condemned this
suicide theory. They called it “reckless,” “premature,” and a dangerous precedent that blames the
very people trying to prevent disasters. Without a final report, and without psychological
profiling, making such claims is both unethical and unscientific.
Which leads to the next possibility.
Could it be a design flaw? A software bug? Or worse—some unknown vulnerability in the 787’s
control systems?
At this point, investigators have no choice but to look closely at Boeing.
Because if both pilots believed the switches were in the right position—and there’s no sign of
cockpit confusion—then the question becomes: did something inside the aircraft itself send the
wrong signal?
And that’s where things get serious.
While the fuel control switches themselves are manually operated and physically protected
against accidental activation, they don’t operate in isolation. They're connected to the 787’s
Electronic Engine Control (EEC) system— which takes physical inputs and translates them into
software commands.
If chain breaks—data corrupt, or software bug misinterprets a “run” as a “cutoff”—the result
would be identical to what happened on Flight 171.
And Boeing has faced exactly these kinds of failures before.
In the case of the 737 MAX which involved the MCAS flight control system, exposed how
internal cost-cutting and poor documentation led to the deployment of a system that could
override pilot input—with devastating consequences. That same culture—one that leaned on
outsourcing, under-resourced software teams, and a hands-off FAA—didn’t just vanish after
MAX. Many of those practices persisted into the Dreamliner program.
And now, with Flight 171, those concerns are back—front and center.
Because if a software process or corrupted signal can misinterpret the fuel switch’s position and
cut off power to both engines during takeoff, then the Dreamliner may not just have a pilot-
training problem. It may have a fundamental systems design flaw.
The problem is, Boeing’s recent track record makes it hard to give them the benefit of the doubt.
Over the past few years, there have been repeated reports of production shortcuts, software
inconsistencies, wiring defects, and a troubling tendency to keep problems quiet until forced to
speak.
In 2023, Boeing temporarily halted Dreamliner deliveries over concerns about incorrectly
documented structural joints
In 2024, Boeing whistleblower Sam Salehpour testified before Congress, alleging that 787
fuselages were improperly fastened—causing potential long-term fatigue cracks. His claims
.
, another Boeing whistleblower, John Barnett, who raised concerns over defective oxygen
systems and faulty quality checks, was found dead in South Carolina from a gunshot wound.
While the incident was officially ruled a suicide, the timing raised serious alarms—especially as
he was mid-deposition in a lawsuit against Boeing.
These are not isolated cases. They reflect a pattern of suppressed warnings, silenced engineers,
and dangerous production shortcuts.
So when Boeing quickly distances itself from technical blame—and a pilot suicide theory
surfaces—it’s fair to ask:
Is this a cover-up?
That question isn’t as far-fetched as it might seem. Boeing is no stranger to influence. With
billions at stake, the company has deep ties to regulators, political institutions, and even
investigative bodies. After the 737 MAX disasters, internal memos revealed how Boeing lobbied
aggressively to minimize scrutiny. Engineers were silenced. Whistleblowers ignored. Some—
like John Barnett—never made it to testify.
and while the FAA and NTSB are officially involved, many aviation analysts quietly ask: who’s
really running the investigation? Is the data being selectively interpreted? Are findings being
softened, delayed—or worse, rewritten? As of today, there is no definitive conclusion.
Because The full investigation could take up to two years.
when multi billion company like Boeing has the resources, connections, and motivation to
protect itself—facts can become negotiable. And the truth, buried under layers of influence.
‘Was this a moment of personal tragedy… or another chapter in a corporate pattern of deflection,
silence, and deadly mistakes?
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