When My Tail Boom Left the Aircraft

How character, training, and life experiences helped me save six lives.

Out of nowhere, I heard this whoosh—almost like a change in pressure. There were no warning lights or indications. Through the Bell 407’s windscreen, I could see we were spinning faster and faster. I saw the blue of the ocean, then the red and brown of the lava field. We were spinning so fast I was being pushed forward.

In those first moments, the normal world vanished. Time seemed to compress, as if everything was happening all at once. I squeezed my transmit button and made one Mayday call and then another. In between, I switched to the intercom to tell my passengers to brace themselves. I remember them screaming.

I leaned hard on the controls trying to get the helicopter straight and level. Training tells us that an uncontrollable yaw to the right could indicate a loss of the drivetrain or tail-rotor components.

I rolled the throttle into idle, hoping to remove torque and arrest the yaw. Instead of continuing to flip and spin over and over, we started to slow down, helping to reduce the impact. Thankfully, my brain and muscles have retained the emergency procedures along with training and experience from more than 12 years and over 8,000 hours of commercial flying.

The front-seat passenger and I felt the first direct impact with the shell crumpling as designed, helping to protect us and the four passengers in the rear. Then the 407 came down on its skid with a thud, slid off, and fell onto its left side.

The next thing I recall was feeling panicked and yelling, “Is everybody out? Are we on fire? Get the fire extinguisher.” The passengers told investigators that I kept saying that over and over. We still had so much fuel on board. With a hot turbine engine that could catch something on fire, it was still a deadly situation. Fortunately, sometime after the fuselage came to rest, I had closed the fuel valve. The 407’s fuel tanks held strong and didn’t burst or leak fuel.

On the Jagged Edge

I’ve flown all across the Hawaiian Islands over the years—about 10 years in total. I started flying in Hawaii again with Paradise Helicopters in Kona on May 15, 2022. The accident happened three and a half weeks later, on Jun. 8. I wasn’t on the schedule to fly, but a friend had asked if I could cover for him.

The last of my four flights that day was a sunset flight, where passengers “ooh and aah” over volcanoes, valleys, and waterfalls. Typically, we depart Kona International Airport (PHKO) about two and a half hours before sunset and, if the weather and timing are right, we end up back in Kona on the west side of the island where the sun sets over the bay. It’s quite picturesque.

It was an easy day to fly. The weather was clear with light winds. Two groups were on that flight—a brother and sister who had rescheduled from earlier in the week because of weather and a father with his twin daughters, who had just turned 18.

About 20 minutes in, we were flying over a very remote, uneven part of the island that’s covered for miles with reddish ‘a‘ā lava flows. That’s where we crash-landed. Getting out of the aircraft to a safe distance away was a hurdle because the lava is sharp and virtually impossible to walk on.

After everyone was out safely, the brother used a rotor-blade tiedown to create a sling for my broken arm. I’m 6 ft. 5, 220 lb. It took the two guys to help me get away from the helicopter. While we waited for a rescue chopper, Paradise Helicopters followed its emergency protocols and circled overhead.

The Fallout

In an interview with investigators, one of the passengers said they saw something fly off the machine as it was spinning. Turns out, it was the tail boom! It had separated from the fuselage midair, and they found it more than 700 ft. away, mostly intact.

In its final report, the NTSB concluded that the tail boom likely fell off the aircraft because of abnormal loading and fracture of an attachment bolt due to a gap between the upper-left longeron and the aft fuselage bulkhead.

Following the issuance of the report, NTSB Board Member Michael Graham commented on my terrifying ordeal. “Hearing Tim recount his harrowing story is remarkable. I am thankful Tim and all five passengers survived this terrible accident. No pilot should ever have to experience a violent in-flight separation of a tail boom,” Graham said. “To prevent this accident from occurring again, the NTSB has issued recommendations to both the FAA and Transport Canada.”

After the accident, I remember being put into the rescue helicopter. I could see the pilot—a friend of mine—crying before he flew me to the waiting ambulance. I spent most of the transport time in excruciating pain.

I woke up in the hospital’s intensive care unit (ICU). I remember asking the doctors and staff about the passengers. Instead of answering my question, they told me only about my injuries—a broken back, a shattered sacrum, 13 broken ribs, a black eye, and a spiral fracture in my right humerus with four cracks that ran from my shoulder to my elbow, along with many other injuries. On top of it all, I had to be in quarantine with no visitors for several days because one of the passengers tested positive for COVID-19.

I spent more than two weeks in the ICU. It took six weeks for me to be able to sit up for even a moment. Overall, I remained in the hospital for a month and spent another month in rehab. A year and a half later, I’m still in pain. I go to physical therapy, occupational therapy, and other routine procedures and appointments. Because of the accident, I’ve undergone four surgeries. The accident has devastated my income. I’m still mired in quicksand with lawyers and workers’ comp officials, and dealing with paperwork from insurance providers.

Living and Working with Danger

I’ve lived with risk most of my life. After high school, I traveled the world serving my country as a US Marine. My first commercial gig was on an S-61 helicopter for aerial firefighting that left me up all night choking on smoke and pollen. I’ve flown patrols 3 ft. off power lines that spiderweb at different heights across the West Coast’s hills and valleys. I’ve lifted air-conditioning units onto buildings; helped set radio and cell towers; and logged trees in the Pacific Northwest, yanking and banking until I experienced motion sickness.

I like to fly helicopters, drive tractors, and work with heavy equipment. I enjoy dirt bikes, four-wheelers, ATVs, side-by-sides, and snowmobiles. I love to surf and snowboard. All these things come with risk.

What we do with helicopters isn’t easy, especially in the utility world. We’re in the red “dead man’s” zone often. You succeed by learning to trust your instincts and training and by building your character.

Managing Risk Responsibly

Life is like surfing. Sometimes you paddle in late and don’t catch the wave, or you go a bit too fast, catch an edge, and wipe out. Still, you just keep going because you know what a great feeling it is to catch a good wave. As we rack up the hours, we can start to think we’re invincible.

I’d like to share some advice: As an industry, we’ve become lax. We need to take our fundamentals seriously—everything from flying square traffic patterns to frequently practicing autorotations. Solid training makes up the foundation for operating machines safely, whether it’s a helicopter, an airplane, a boat, or anything else. Training instills the knowledge and confidence to react quickly and decisively.

Since you can’t always see things as they are, make sure you have someone in your wheelhouse—a trusted friend or coworker—who can tell you, “It’s time you brush up on this.” You can do the same for them. Make it fun and constructive.

Get out and practice autorotations and IFR approaches. Speak up if you’re not feeling well. Stop and reach out to coworkers or your chief pilot and say, “I need help.” We must be willing to speak up.

These days, everyone is asked to do more with less time and usually with fewer resources. Take your time, pay more attention. Whether you’re a pilot or an aircraft mechanic, it’s in our human nature to make mistakes. We’re not perfect, but we have to work together. You have to be able to step up and say, “Hey, I know I could have messed up. Can you double-check my work?”

I encourage you to be confident. Don’t give up. Oftentimes, we are our own biggest hurdle. Never surrender to an emergency. Don’t stop flying the aircraft. I’ve read accident reports where pilots froze up or took their hands off the controls and told everyone they’re sorry. I’m surprised to hear how many casualties are presumed to have been caused by the flight crew just giving up.

On the day of the Bell 407 accident, I reverted to my training. We’re alive because of it—and probably thanks to five other miracles.

Looking Forward to What’s Next

I’ve gone through some dark moments since the accident. Thankfully, my girlfriend, Katlyn, as well as my son, Tim, have been by my side. People I haven’t spoken to in 20 years have called me. There’s been an outpouring of kindness from the aviation community. Last summer, Katlyn and I adopted a rescue dog, Atlas, as a service animal for me, and we’re excited to be expecting a baby in June.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to fly again, but I have to try. I’m taking my time, to make sure that I’m OK to get back out there. I owe it to myself, Katlyn, my family, and the industry to make sure that I’m 100% physically and mentally. I need to know I can handle whatever happens. In the meantime, I’m open to other opportunities.

What I do know: when I’m pilot-in-command, I’m responsible for safety—on board and outside the machine. We all did our jobs that day—Paradise Helicopters, the passengers, rescue crews, doctors, and medical staff. I’m here to tell my story because of it.

Maybe, someday, if I’m as lucky as I was that Wednesday in June 2022, I’ll be back surfing and snowboarding, mountain biking and hiking, and flying people over this gorgeous Hawaiian island I call home.

Increasing Your Odds

How to improve the likelihood of surviving an accident.

• Practice emergency maneuvers so you’re ready—and do this on a regular basis so those skills are fresh
• Beef up your skills in simulator training—it’s a good place to practice emergency maneuvers too dangerous to do in an actual aircraft
• Encourage others to brush up on their emergency procedures too, especially if you will be relying on them for assistance during the actual event
• Ask for help when you need it—it’s important to work through anything that is holding you back from becoming proficient in emergency procedures.
• And most importantly: If an incident does happen, don’t stop flying the aircraft. Don’t give up—continue to aviate, navigate, and communicate, in that order. Tim Hunter’s actions during this accident—which lessened the severity of the impact, reduced the likelihood of fire, and saved lives—demonstrate how a crew’s actions up to the moment of impact and beyond can make a difference in the outcome.

Grounded? 14 Ways to Stay in Aviation

Your skills and experience in vertical aviation are valuable.

When you’re grounded, transitioning to a new career isn’t easy, but you do have options. Your skills and knowledge are valuable to the industry in other ways. Some avenues to explore:

• Accident investigator
• FAA/civil aviation authority inspector
• Air traffic controller
• Aeronautical engineer
• Airport manager
• Helicopter base manager
• Flight department manager
• Helicopter sim/ground instructor
• Aerial firefighting ops coordinator
• Helicopter search-and-rescue technician
• A&P maintenance technician
• Avionics technician
• Aerospace supply-chain manager
• Aviation sales rep.

Visit rotor.org/aviation-jobs for current opportunities. If you want to help, VAI recently created a Workforce Development Working Group designed to address pilot and maintenance technician shortages by developing strategies and tools for recruiting and retaining talent. To participate in the working group, apply at rotor.org/workforce-development-working-group. For more on VAI’s workforce development activities, see “Building the Vertical Aviation Workforce of Tomorrow,” in the March 2024 edition.