It has been 12 months since the crash of Flight 1077. A year of silence. A year of digging through official reports that say nothing, and official apologies that mean less.
Sources close to the investigation confirm that the British families of the 17 victims have been stonewalled at every turn. The wreckage lies in a hangar in a country that refuses to cooperate. The flight recorders were recovered, but their contents remain sealed.
The families have hired their own experts, paid for their own forensic review. What they found suggests a cover up: a maintenance log that contradicts the airline's public statements, a missing fuel receipt, a pilot whose licence was revoked in another jurisdiction. The company that owned the aircraft has since dissolved, its directors scattered across three continents.
The British government says it is "monitoring the situation" but has not launched a formal inquiry.
One father told me: "They want us to forget. They want us to move on.
But my daughter is at the bottom of the sea and nobody will tell me why." The Foreign Office has declined to comment on specific evidence. The families are now preparing a legal challenge in the European Court of Human Rights.
They are not looking for money. They are looking for the truth.
