the aviation circle
In
August 2001, a man walked into the Pan Am International Flight Academy
near Minneapolis and paid for time in a Boeing 747 simulator, in cash,
with stacks of $100 bills.
His name was Zacarias Moussaoui. The academy's typical student was a professional pilot with hundreds of flight hours, training for an airline career. Moussaoui had no license and barely any experience, and full 747 simulator training made no sense for a man like that. Stranger still was his stated goal: he wanted to practice flying from London Heathrow to New York JFK.
His instructor was Clancy Prevost, a former Navy pilot who had flown for Northwest Airlines for decades. Something about his new student would not stop bothering him. The man was evasive about his background, vague about his reasons, and nothing about him fit any student Prevost had ever taught.
Prevost went to his managers and told them the FBI should take a look at this student. The answer, as he testified in court, was blunt: the man had paid the money, and they did not care.
"We'll care when there's a hijacking," Prevost shot back, warning them the lawsuits would come the day the world learned who taught him.
He kept pushing. And on August 15, 2001, on this day 25 years ago, the school called the FBI's Minneapolis office.
Agents moved immediately. The next day, they arrested Moussaoui for overstaying his visa. In his belongings were 747 flight manuals, simulator software, and 2 knives.
26 days later, September 11 happened. Moussaoui, an al-Qaeda operative training for a future attack, spent that morning in a jail cell. He later pleaded guilty to terrorism conspiracy and is serving life in prison.
Nobody can say how many lives Clancy Prevost's stubbornness saved. What is certain: one flight instructor trusted his gut, refused to be brushed off, and a trained terrorist was behind bars weeks before the worst morning in aviation history.
His name was Zacarias Moussaoui. The academy's typical student was a professional pilot with hundreds of flight hours, training for an airline career. Moussaoui had no license and barely any experience, and full 747 simulator training made no sense for a man like that. Stranger still was his stated goal: he wanted to practice flying from London Heathrow to New York JFK.
His instructor was Clancy Prevost, a former Navy pilot who had flown for Northwest Airlines for decades. Something about his new student would not stop bothering him. The man was evasive about his background, vague about his reasons, and nothing about him fit any student Prevost had ever taught.
Prevost went to his managers and told them the FBI should take a look at this student. The answer, as he testified in court, was blunt: the man had paid the money, and they did not care.
"We'll care when there's a hijacking," Prevost shot back, warning them the lawsuits would come the day the world learned who taught him.
He kept pushing. And on August 15, 2001, on this day 25 years ago, the school called the FBI's Minneapolis office.
Agents moved immediately. The next day, they arrested Moussaoui for overstaying his visa. In his belongings were 747 flight manuals, simulator software, and 2 knives.
26 days later, September 11 happened. Moussaoui, an al-Qaeda operative training for a future attack, spent that morning in a jail cell. He later pleaded guilty to terrorism conspiracy and is serving life in prison.
Nobody can say how many lives Clancy Prevost's stubbornness saved. What is certain: one flight instructor trusted his gut, refused to be brushed off, and a trained terrorist was behind bars weeks before the worst morning in aviation history.
