Aviation Crime & Crisis

Analytical lens for aviation crises

In aviation crises, technical, operational, regulatory and human factors rarely run in a straight line. I bundle these strands into an analytical lens:

• Backward, in order to understand the true origin of the situation – from the first indications via decision paths through to reactions by authorities and political actors.
• Forward, in order to model possible developments, risks and exit scenarios – for example in relation to prosecutors, regulators, insurers, shareholders or diplomatic actors.

This gives airlines, airports, manufacturers and individuals realistic options for action – from discreet clean-up through to a consciously developed line that can also be held in public if necessary.

I describe the underlying method in detail in the Dossier Analytical Working Method.

Typical mandates in Aviation Crime & Crisis

Aviation mandates with a criminal-law dimension are often international, politically sensitive and reputation-critical. The focus is usually not on a big public trial, but on a discreet, sustainable solution.

Approach in crisis mandates

Aviation mandates in a criminal-law context – especially in crises – are rarely loud, but always delicate. They concern reputation, economic viability and often also diplomatic relations. In such constellations I effectively act as a liaison between the airline or manufacturer and state authorities – with the goal of negotiating sustainable solutions before proceedings escalate.

Aviation Crime & Crisis – what this actually means

I am not a government agency, but a criminal lawyer with an aviation background. I work exclusively on the client’s side – flexible, fast and discreet. No committees, no hearings, no political stage: my clients decide what becomes known about my work and what does not.

When a crisis is underway, one simple principle applies: Do what's to do – but do it now. That means rapid situational assessment, clear priorities, direct lines to the right counterparts – and only then the question of how much of this will later appear in files, reports or press releases.

Little Clipper – where it all began

Cessna 421 “Little Clipper” – my small duty aircraft in Europe and the Middle East.

Before I became a lawyer, I spent six years, up to 3 December 1991, working for Pan Am – among other things with the Cessna 421 “Little Clipper”. With this aircraft, I flew across Europe and as far as the Middle East and North Africa. She was a true small airliner: 375 hp, up to 300 ktas, a pressurised cabin up to FL 300 and full airliner avionics. With long-range tank we had a range of up to 2,600 km. Anti-ice, de-ice – everything was there, even a small lavatory with a seatbelt at the back. We were able to sequence Little Clipper into the arrival stream at any major airport – just like her bigger airline brothers. – How a small Pan Am Cessna 421 lived up to her big brothers.

When we departed from Tempelhof (THF), then preferably on runway 09 eastbound over East Berlin. Under the wings we carried the Pan Am logo, and sometimes people in the East waved up to us, even though it was dangerous for them. We were Pan Am, we were America, we were the free world.

During that time I learned what it means to carry responsibility in aviation: decisions under pressure, complex processes on the ground and in the air, cultural differences at foreign airports – and the importance of discreet yet clear communication with authorities and security services.

Last Clipper – where it all ended

On 3 December 1991, a cold, clear winter’s day in Berlin-Tempelhof, I flew my last Pan Am flight – a Boeing 737 that “just needed to be taken away”. Pan Am basically no longer existed; the Berlin route rights had already gone to Lufthansa a year earlier, but this one last airplane was still sitting there and absolutely had to make it to Dresden that day – before the insolvency, anyway.

The globe on the tailplane had already faded, but it still shone in that typical Pan Am blue. My assignment was clear: get her to Dresden. Do what’s to do – but do it now. I could only find one captain who was still legally current on the 737. You don’t normally fly a 40-ton airliner “single”. But in crisis management you do not think in categories of normal operations.

So I called our aviation law expert in New York – it was three in the morning for him. Anyone who manages crises for airlines does not think in terms of day and night. Thirty minutes later the solution was clear: we would do it under FAR 91 as a special ferry / maintenance flight VFR, under visual flight rules. For that you need a fully type-rated captain – which we had. VFR with a 40-ton aircraft over Berlin? Oh hell – stress ahead – but it was legal. And we were still Pan Am, we were America.

We solved the question of the second person in the right-hand seat pragmatically: A “qualified observer / company representative” was sufficient – and that was me. With plenty of flight experience, but without a type rating for the 737, though with more than 100 simulator hours on that type. Not in a Microsoft simulator but in a “real” full-flight simulator on three hydraulic legs.

We departed from runway 09 to the east. No 70% environmental take-off – 100%, full thrust once more. Far to the east over the Schillerkiez district, then a long left turn onto a southerly course. The 737 was light, almost empty – an almost bankrupt airline can no longer fill its tanks – and she climbed with that old self-evidence that you hardly feel today.

Shortly after take-off the captain asked: “Martin, you want to do that now? It’s your ride. You have control.” And now I was flying the 40-ton aircraft. I put her into a turn, no more than 25 degrees of bank. Once more over Clayallee, the former US mission. People were standing down there waving a huge US flag, the Star-Spangled Banner. A quiet farewell moment that has stayed with me to this day.

We flew over parts of the former GDR that once belonged to the ADIZ, the Air Defense Identification Zone – airspace you did not simply cross. Now we were allowed to. We were Pan Am, we were America. It was one of those quiet privileges: the freedom to fly where others had to stop.

I had never flown into Dresden with a jet before. The wind picked up on approach. I remember the ditch before the runway with its thermals – the aircraft briefly lifted, as if it wanted to resist one last time before having to settle. The captain firmly put her down on the runway. His motto: land properly once, I’m not paying landing fees twice. He had previously landed on aircraft carriers. No applause, no show – just routine that knew it was needed for the last time.

Dresden-Klotzsche. Sun on old GDR concrete, a clear December sky. We rolled out and parked the aircraft. Engines off, radios off. First the metallic crackling as she cooled down – then silence. I stayed seated for a moment. The cockpit smelled of electronics, of a life that had just gone out. In front of me the dark panel, all instruments dead. I put the checklist aside, took a deep breath and reached for my Halliburton flight case with the sticker “Pan Am, Martin Heynert, Exec C”. I still have it today.

Then I walked down the stairs, turned around once more and looked at the blue globe in the sunlight. Pan American World Airways, Pan Am. Two words that carried an entire era – and for me were the best years of my life.

Excerpt from “Clipper Tales” – stories of an airline crisis manager.

This is also how I work today in criminal and crisis mandates for aviation companies: unconventional, but legally sound, without loss of time and with a clear focus on a sustainable solution for my clients. I know authorities, rules and responsibilities – but I do not think in forms, I think in options for action.

Contact for aviation mandates