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Chapter V

Michael Edmunds

Michael Edmunds was unaccustomed to flying first-class. Retired after twenty-eight years with the FAA, he had worked with the organization as an Air Traffic Controller/Supervisor, an Aircraft Accident Investigator, an Air Traffic Control Evaluator, and an Expert Witness. Most of his previous time in commercial jets had been as a controller taking familiarization flights, “fam flights” as they were called in the business. That meant riding in the cockpit jump seat, usually located just behind the captain, to observe flight procedures. Edmunds’s duties while on these trips included evaluating controller performance, everything from their use of speed control to effect spacing and maintaining a steady traffic flow to the utilization of standard phraseology to preclude any misunderstanding of what an instruction or clearance intended. He had no way of knowing just how valuable his knowledge of phraseology would prove to be.

Edmunds had taken some eight-hundred-plus fam trips during his career. He loved them. Almost all the pilots he met were willing to express ideas on how the system could be improved, most of them good, and they were just as willing to listen to what Edmunds had to say as to what controllers needed from them. The greatest benefit to the trips as far as Edmunds was concerned was PR. Controllers and pilots got to see one another as real people instead of just an anonymous voice on the frequency. It was a mystery to Edmunds as to why the FAA worked so hard to try and eliminate controller authorization for these fam flights.

Edmunds took a certain satisfaction in knowing he had more time in the jump seat than the current FAA Administrator had time as a PIC (Pilot-in-Command). Her total flying hours as a pilot as well as her qualifications for the position of administrator were somewhat suspect. Edmunds, on the other hand, had over three thousand hours as a commercial-instrument pilot in multi-engine aircraft and held advanced flight and ground instructor ratings. As a controller, he had been creative and quick on his feet in those moments when an instantaneous response was needed to avert potential disaster. Opinionated and quick to express himself, he wasn’t always liked by his peers and superiors. Edmunds couldn’t have cared less.

Like most controllers of his era, Edmunds loved the job. Its constantly changing and challenging environment appealed to the adventurous side of his nature. Like most controllers, he quickly became disgusted with the social politics and policies of the organization. Throughout his career he had watched a never-ending parade of politically appointed “drones” constantly lower the job’s specifications to reach “correct” numerical percentages in the controller ranks for certain designated groups, the same trend George McCormick had observed. All these qualification changes were done in the name of “diversity” and “leveling the playing field.” Any individual protesting these policies was certain to suffer the usual charges of racist, sexist, homophobe, misogynist; the politically correct had a long list. All of these labels had been hurled at Edmunds at one time or another. The government’s mantra was, “The standards haven’t been lowered; the new qualifications are a result of criteria that has been verified by extensive testing. You just don’t understand.” Edmunds understood. He disagreed, and with good reason. He knew the explanation was intellectually dishonest and morally bankrupt, and he let those in authority know it. Neither he nor any controller he knew ever objected to who was working at the next scope, as long as that person was genuinely qualified. The “new qualifications” were producing controllers who had trouble separating two gnats with a screen door, much less being equipped to handle complex traffic situations involving real aircraft, and everyone in the ranks knew it.

Edmunds now ran his own consulting business. Usually, where there are airplane crashes, there are also dead bodies. Where there are dead bodies there are grieving loved ones with lots of questions. “Who was responsible?” “Was anyone negligent in his duties?” “Did air traffic control have anything to do with causing the crash?” “Could air traffic control have done anything to prevent the crash?” If these questions did not generate “acceptable answers,” there would be no shortage of lawyers bringing “wrongful death” suits against the government for compensation, and lots of it. Lawyers, good, bad, or otherwise, know it only pays to sue someone with money; since air traffic controllers are agents of the federal government, the government qualifies quite nicely as an entity with money, especially with crashed airplanes providing blood in the water for the ubiquitous piranha. Lawyers also know they need an expert witness to explain to the judge and jury all the intricacies of a complicated air traffic control system and how in any given crash the system failed to meet its obligations, thus causing, or substantially contributing to cause of the accident. Enter Michael Edmunds.

Edmunds had come to learn that most lawyers understand as much about air traffic control as they do about ethical imperatives. He chose his cases carefully. If the evidence showed no contributing cause to the crash on the part of the air traffic control system, he had no problem working as an expert for the government. If the contrary were true, Edmunds worked for the plaintiff, although he would be the first to admit he took particular personal pleasure in fighting the government in court.

When Edmunds did work for the plaintiff, government lawyers would attempt to portray him as a hired gun, someone paid to testify and give opinions supporting “his lawyer’s” cause of action. opinions designed to elicit sympathy from juries in the hope that large sums of money would be awarded. A question frequently asked of him was, “Are you being paid to testify and give opinions?” In cases where Edmunds had been hired by the government, plaintiff’s lawyers attempted to paint him as a “government whore,” one who had once been a member of the FAA’s “good old boy” club, and one who would say whatever was necessary to protect the government and the FAA. Either way, Edmunds loved it—obnoxious, arrogant, aggressive, sometimes friendly lawyers attempting to twist his motives and opinions into knots; attempting to portray him as an advocate, someone who was anything but objective. Edmunds thrived on the intellectual combat. Dueling with opposing counsel was sport for him.

He had spent years working air traffic at some of the largest terminal and en route radar air traffic control facilities in the United States. He had successfully dealt with lost pilots, outdated equipment, power failures, incompetent supervisors, idiotic government policies on how to “efficiently move” aircraft, badly designed airspace, and on rare occasion, the know-it-all airline captain. Now he dealt with know-it-all lawyers on both sides of the table. Edmunds knew his trade, and he knew it well. More importantly, he knew how to explain its complexities, a skill honed by several years spent as an instructor at the FAA Academy in Oklahoma City and an entire career spent training controllers under actual field conditions. He called the cases as he saw them, regardless of the desired outcome wished by either side. It was his job to explain to the court in easy-to-understand terms what had happened from the standpoint of what the air traffic control system did or did not do. He patiently explained to juries that he did not “give” opinions as suggested by counsel’s question. He “arrived” at them after careful examination of the evidence. His standard answer to the question was to humbly reply, “No, sir, I’m not being paid to testify, I’m being paid for my time and expertise, which is used to study the case and arrive at my opinions based on the evidence. My testimony is my own. I get paid regardless of the outcome of the case, a distinction with a difference, to be sure.”

Edmunds grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and learned early in life that winning and losing were not nearly as important as the willingness to fight. As an Air Force and FAA controller, he had more than once told his superiors what he thought of them and their policies. As an Airman “next-to-last-class” attending the Air Force’s Air Traffic Control School he had been asked, along with the rest of his class, to fill out a midterm evaluation form on the training instructors, and write on the form whatever comments they thought appropriate. They were assured that nothing would be used against them as the school wanted open and honest opinions. Edmunds wrote well of the instructors that were doing a good job and not so well of others, including the Chief Master Sergeant who ran the place. After reading Edmunds’s evaluation, the Chief Master Sergeant called Edmunds to his office, had him stand at a brace, and threatened him with court-martial. The intimidation did not have the desired effect. Edmunds was scared, but it was nothing compared to the rage that boiled within him. At the end of the course, the class was told to write a final evaluation report. They were also told that if anyone wrote anything other than “outstanding,” that person might have to forgo leave in order to remain on base and explain why. Edmunds nailed the same people a second time, especially the CMSGT. He had decided that if he was going down it was not going to be with a whimper. They let him leave without making so much as a peep. Edmunds was not one to be intimidated by lawyers, courtrooms, or much of anything else. Twice married and divorced, he now lived alone and made it a point to stay away from serious personal involvements.

There was still a half hour until his aircraft would touch down in Boston, enough time to ponder yesterday’s strange phone call that had launched him onto this flight, a call concerning a midair collision that had occurred two weeks before.