Sidebar. A Love Story

• Author: Kenneth P. Nolan
• Pages: 62-63

Sidebar

Published in Litigation, Volume 48, Number 1, Fall 2021. © 2021 by the American Bar Association. Reproduced with permission. All rights reserved. This information or any portion thereof may not be

copied or disseminated in any form or by any means or stored in an electronic database or retrieval system without the express written consent of the American Bar Association. 62

KENNETH P. NOLAN

The author, a senior editor of Litigation and the author of A Streetwise Guide to Litigation (ABA 2013),

is counsel to Speiser Krause, Rye Brook, New York.

I love weddings—the dazzling bride, the

beaming groom, the whispered vows, the

awkward first dance, even the corny cut-

ting of the cake. After a few cocktails, I’m

always on the dance floor, throwing up

my hands, screaming “Shout!” For this is

the one day that love is pure, timeless, the

one day that this devoted couple is certain

that their love will not only endure but be-

come stronger, deeper, and more fulfilling.

I never tell them the truth.

“I just want to fall in love,” my daugh-

ter’s first-year college roommate said with

longing. We all do, for there’s no greater

emotion, no better feeling. Yet, love is chal-

lenging for it changes, dissipates, even dis-

appears. This is confirmed by Professor

Laurie Santos of Yale. In her wildly popular

course on what makes people happy, The

Science of Well-Being, she posits that mar-

rying your soulmate will make you happy

for only two years or so. Gradually, but cer-

tainly, you’ll return to your old miserable

self. This has happened to everyone I know,

except Matt Warmerdam.

“Amy, I love you,” Matt yelled as his

Atlantic Southeast Airlines Flight 529

crashed during an emergency landing

in a hayfield near Carrollton, Georgia,

on August 21, 1995. These were the final

words on the cockpit voice recorder be-

fore the Embraer Brasilia was destroyed

by ground impact and a post-crash inferno.

With the left engine destroyed—“Engine’s

exploded. It’s just hanging out there”—

and unable to maintain altitude, Captain

Ed Gannaway, age 45, and First Officer

Matthew Warmerdam, 28, fought to keep

the plane aloft until an airport could be

reached. “I can’t hold this thing,” the cap

-

tain said. “Help me hold it.”

After more than nine minutes, tragi-

cally, the plane, losing altitude and speed,

clipped the tops of trees and crashed.

Because the pilots’ skill and determina-

tion avoided power lines and houses, all

26 passengers and 3 crew survived the im-

pact. A minute later, however, fire started

from the hundreds of gallons of fuel that

spilled amid the wreckage.

Trapped in the cockpit, Matt was de-

termined to escape. Yet, behind his seat

an oxygen tank leaked, strengthening

the fire that roared toward him. Despite

a dislocated shoulder, Matt chopped at the

thick cockpit glass with a small axe but

could open only a four-inch hole. “You’re

not going to let me die, are you?” he yelled

at a passenger who grabbed the axe and

unsuccessfully tried to enlarge the hole.

Seven minutes after the crash, the fire

department arrived. They stuck a hose

through the hole in the glass to extinguish

the fire burning in the cockpit. “Tell my

wife, Amy, I love her,” Matt said to Steve

Chadwick, the first responder. “No, sir,” he

replied, “you tell her yourself.” Steve then

pulled a horribly burned Matt to safety. In

the ambulance, Matt consoled the para-

medic who was distraught because he

thought Matt would die from his severe

burns. The paramedic undressed Matt

to cool him off and pinned his badge to

his underwear so Matt could be identi-

fied later.

In the chaos, passengers had to run

through fire to escape the wreckage.

Clothes were ignited; flesh burned. Flight

Attendant Robin Fech’s calm demeanor in

the air and her heroism on the ground—

despite injuries—saved lives. Yet, the crash

resulted in the deaths of Captain Gannaway

and four passengers. Three more died of

injuries in the next 30 days. A ninth passen-

ger died four months later from the same

cause—thermal burns and smoke inhala-

tion. Another died of a heart attack eight

weeks later. Matt Warmerdam survived.

I was nervous and scared as I traveled

to Chattanooga’s Erlanger Hospital to

meet Matt and Amy. Not because I didn’t

know what to do—our firm specializes in

aviation accident litigation—but because

I feared becoming emotional at the sight

of his disfiguring burns, which were over

more than 40 percent of his body. With

my partner Gerry Lear, a former Marine

helicopter pilot who fought in Vietnam,

we entered the burn unit where we would

meet a courageous, resilient, and fun cou-

ple. A couple whose love and devotion has

endured 50 surgeries, pain, suffering, re-

habilitation, and upheaval that would have

tested anyone. Instead, Matt and Amy’s

A LOVE STORY