It sounds like a scene pulled straight from a high-budget thriller, something so surreal you'd assume the scriptwriter was trying too hard. But on a humid July afternoon in 2022, near Raleigh, North Carolina, the impossible became a terrifying reality. People don't just vanish from cockpits. Yet, that is exactly what happened when a co-pilot jumps out of plane mid-flight, leaving a trail of confusion, grief, and a massive NTSB investigation that forced the aviation world to look at pilot mental health through a much harsher lens.
Charles Hew Crooks was only 23. He wasn't some rogue element or a cinematic villain. By all accounts, he was a young man living his dream, working as a flight instructor and then as a first officer for a cargo operation. He was flying a CASA C-212 Aviocar, a rugged twin-engine turboprop known for its rear ramp and utility. Then, without a parachute, he exited the aircraft. He fell 3,500 feet into a suburban backyard in Fuquay-Varina.
The pilot in command stayed with the plane. He landed it at Raleigh-Durham International Airport. But he was alone.
The Sequence of Events That Defied Logic
The flight began as a routine mission. They were heading to Raeford West Airport to drop off paratroopers. It was a standard "jump run." But things went south quickly during a hard landing attempt at Raeford. The plane’s right main landing gear struck the runway with enough force to shear it off completely. The pilots managed to get back into the air—a "go-around" in aviation speak—but they were in a crippled bird.
They were heading for Raleigh-Durham (RDU) for an emergency landing. The situation was tense, sure. Emergency crews were waiting on the ground. The pilots were communicating with air traffic control.
Then, the transcript gets weird.
According to the NTSB report, Crooks became visibly upset. He apologized to the captain. He said he felt sick. He needed air. In a twin-engine cargo plane like the CASA C-212, the rear ramp can be opened in flight. He didn't just crack a window. He got up, left his seat, and went out the back.
Why the "Accident" Theory Doesn't Quite Fit
Some initial internet chatter suggested he might have tripped. Maybe he was trying to inspect the damaged gear? Honestly, anyone who knows the layout of a C-212 knows that inspecting the gear from the open ramp is essentially a suicide mission without a harness. The NTSB's preliminary findings were pretty blunt. The pilot in command reported that Crooks "got up from his seat, removed his headset, apologized, and departed the airplane via the aft ramp door."
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There was no struggle. No mechanical failure of the door. Just a sudden, inexplicable exit.
When a co-pilot jumps out of plane, the immediate reaction from the public is often a mix of "was he pushed?" or "was it a stunt?" But the reality is usually much darker and more human. Pilots face immense pressure. The "tough it out" culture in the cockpit is legendary and, frankly, dangerous. You've got these young aviators building hours, flying aging airframes in stressful conditions, often while struggling with the high cost of training and the isolation of the job.
The Mental Health Crisis in the Cockpit
We need to talk about the elephant in the room: FAA medical certifications. For decades, pilots have been terrified of seeking help for depression or anxiety. If you tell an FAA examiner you’re feeling overwhelmed, you risk losing your wings. Your livelihood. Your identity. It creates a "silence or lose it" paradox.
The Charles Crooks incident wasn't the first time an aviator made a final, desperate choice while in command. Think back to Germanwings Flight 9525 or the SilkAir 185 disaster. While those involved hundreds of passengers, the core issue—a human mind snapping under the weight of something we can't see—is the same.
The aviation community is small. Everyone knows someone who's "burned out." But there's a difference between being tired and the level of distress required to step out of a plane at 3,500 feet. The NTSB doesn't usually rule on "why" in a psychological sense; they look at the "how." But the industry is starting to realize that the "how" is often a direct result of a broken support system.
The Technical Fallout of the Raleigh Incident
When the plane finally touched down at RDU, it skidded off the runway. The right wing dragged. The nose gear collapsed. It was a wreck. But the pilot survived. He was the only one left to tell the story of those final minutes.
- The CASA C-212 ramp system: It’s hydraulic. It doesn't just "fall open."
- Air Traffic Control recordings: The pilot’s voice sounds strained but professional. He reports the loss of his co-pilot with a haunting calmness that only comes from pure shock.
- The recovery: Local law enforcement found Crooks in the trees of a backyard. The 911 calls from neighbors are chilling. They describe a body falling from the sky—something that simply shouldn't happen in a quiet neighborhood.
What Most People Get Wrong About Pilot Safety
Most folks assume that if a plane is in trouble, the pilots are a unified team working to save it. Usually, they are. Crew Resource Management (CRM) is the gold standard for cockpit communication. It’s designed to prevent exactly this kind of breakdown. But CRM assumes both pilots are operating with a clear head.
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When a co-pilot jumps out of plane, it suggests a total collapse of the CRM environment. It’s not just a mechanical failure; it’s a systemic one.
Some people argued that the damaged landing gear caused a panic attack. Maybe. But pilots are trained for gear-up landings. It’s a standard emergency. You belly it in, it sparks a lot, the plane is totaled, but usually, everyone walks away. Crooks knew this. He was an instructor. He had hundreds of hours. This wasn't a novice who didn't understand the risks.
That leads to the uncomfortable conclusion that this was a deliberate act born of a moment of acute psychological distress.
Acknowledging the Complexity of Aviation Grief
For the family of Charles Crooks, the narrative wasn't about a "co-pilot jumping." It was about a son. His father, David Crooks, described him as a "pursuer of his dreams." He was a person, not a headline. This is the part the news cycles often miss. We look for the "shock factor" of a body falling from a plane, but we ignore the quiet tragedy of a promising life ending in such a public and confusing way.
The NTSB's final reports on these types of incidents take years. They look at toxicology, maintenance logs, and every second of the cockpit voice recorder (CVR) if one is available. In this case, the investigation focused heavily on the sequence of the hard landing at Raeford and the subsequent communication between the two pilots.
Actionable Insights for Pilots and the Public
We can't just move on from an event like this without changing something. If you're a pilot, or if you just follow aviation news, there are real takeaways here that go beyond the tabloid headlines.
1. Normalizing the Conversation Around Mental Health
The "macho" culture of aviation is a relic. If you are a pilot feeling overwhelmed, utilize peer-support programs that offer a degree of anonymity. Organizations like Project Wingman or the Air Line Pilots Association (ALPA) Aeromedical Office provide resources that don't immediately trigger a "grounded" status.
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2. Understanding the Limitations of FAA Reform
While the FAA has started to look at easing the path for pilots on certain SSRIs (antidepressants), the process is still slow. Advocacy is the only way forward. We need a system where a pilot can say "I'm not okay" without losing their career forever.
3. Crew Resource Management (CRM) Beyond the Checklist
CRM needs to include "emotional check-ins." It sounds "soft" for the cockpit, but knowing your partner's mental state is just as vital as knowing the fuel state. If a co-pilot is acting out of character after a stressful event (like a hard landing), the other pilot needs to be empowered to take full control and secure the cockpit.
4. Recognizing the Signs of Acute Stress
The "apology" Crooks gave before exiting is a classic sign of someone who has reached a breaking point. In high-stress environments, sudden calm or withdrawal is often more dangerous than visible panic.
The mystery of why a co-pilot jumps out of plane in North Carolina may never be fully solved to everyone's satisfaction. We have the physical evidence—the damaged gear, the open ramp, the coordinates of the fall. But the interior cockpit of the human mind remains the one place investigators can't fully map.
To prevent another tragedy like the one involving Charles Crooks, the aviation industry must prioritize the pilot's mind as much as the plane's engines. It is a stark reminder that the most sophisticated piece of technology in any aircraft is the human being at the controls, and that technology requires maintenance, care, and sometimes, a break.
If you are an aviator or a student pilot, familiarize yourself with the current NTSB safety recommendations regarding pilot mental health. These documents are public and provide a roadmap for how the industry is trying to evolve. Support peer-led initiatives that allow for honest disclosure without the immediate threat of certificate action. The goal is to ensure that when a pilot closes that cockpit door, they are fully present and supported, from takeoff to touchdown.