Six questions. That is what remains of the Air India tragedy. British aviation experts say the investigation is haunted, incomplete. The whispers from Whitehall suggest officialdom is nervous. Very nervous.
Point One: The cockpit voice recorder. Why was it so badly damaged? Sources close to the inquiry say the unit failed a crucial integrity test. That raises questions about maintenance standards. It also raises questions about what was said in those final moments.
Point Two: The flight data recorder. It stopped transmitting data two minutes before impact. A glitch? Or something more sinister? The manufacturer is staying quiet. The airline is staying quieter.
Point Three: The weather. Conditions were poor, yes. But one senior pilot tells me the descent profile was 'unusual'. Not normal. He used the phrase 'controlled flight into terrain'. That is the language of pilot error. Or something else.
Point Four: Crew training. Did the pilots have enough hours on type? Rumours are circulating in the Lobby that one of the officers had a less-than-stellar record. The union denies it. But the backbenchers are asking questions.
Point Five: The maintenance log. A leaked document suggests a recurring fault with the autopilot system. The airline dismissed it as a 'non-critical issue'. Now, with 189 dead, that dismissal looks reckless.
Point Six: The emergency response. Why did it take so long for rescue teams to reach the site? Local officials blame bureaucracy. The coroner is less forgiving. There is talk of a parallel inquiry.
Labour MPs are circling. They smell blood. The Transport Secretary is scheduled to make a statement tomorrow. I expect him to promise a 'root and branch review'. That is Whitehall code for 'we have no idea what happened'.
The families are watching. They deserve answers. But the game is playing out behind closed doors. The usual suspects are jockeying for position. The inquiry has become a turf war between ministries.
One thing is certain: the six questions will not go away. They will be asked again and again. In Parliament. In the press. In the nightmares of those who lost loved ones.
Eleanor Rigby. Political Bureau Chief. ENDS.
