March 24, 2016, marks 1 year since a Germanwings copilot locked the pilot out of the cockpit, then purposely crashed his plane into the French Alps, killing all those aboard the commercial airliner. You can think of it as a suicide or as a mass murder; it was both.
Initially, it was reported that the pilot had taken 10 months off from training in 2008-2009 because of depression. A full report released earlier this month by France’s Civil Aviation Safety Investigation Authority reveals that the copilot recently had resumed treatment with a psychiatrist, as well as several other physicians, without informing his employer.
According to the report, the initial episode of depression included a hospitalization. The copilot was judged to be “entirely healthy,” and communications occurred between the aviation authorities, and his psychiatrist and psychotherapist. The copilot was issued a class I, unrestricted medical certificate that allowed him to fly as long as he did not have a recurrence of depression. It would be revoked if he had either symptoms or a need for medication. The medical certificate was renewed yearly, most recently in July 2014.
In November 2014, the copilot consulted with “private physician A” and was placed on sick leave for a week. Beginning in December, the copilot saw “several private physicians” for visual difficulties and sleep disturbance. He was seen by several eye specialists who found no visual problems. On Feb. 17, 2015, the copilot saw “private physician B,” who placed him on sick leave for 8 days; he did not forward this information to Germanwings. On the same day, he saw “private physician C,” who referred him to a psychiatrist and a psychotherapist, and prescribed zopiclone, a sleep medication similar to Lunesta (eszopiclone), the report says.
On Feb. 22, 2015, the copilot returned to see “private physician C” and was placed on sick leave for 3 days. Two days later, he met with a psychiatrist and was given a prescription for mirtazapine. On March 9, “private physician D” issued a note for sick leave, which the copilot did not report to the airline. The following day, he returned to “private physician C,” who recommended hospitalization for possible psychosis. He returned to “private physician C” on March 12, 2 days later, and was given a note for sick leave – which he did not relay to Germanwings. On March 16, the treating psychiatrist prescribed escitalopram, Dominal f (a phenothiazine similar to compazine), and zolpidem. On March 18, he received a note for sick leave by “private physician E.” An email to his treating psychiatrist sometime in March also revealed that he was taking an additional dose of mirtazapine and lorazepam. In reading the list of medical contacts, one has the sense that the copilot was frantic. His remains tested positive for citalopram, mirtazapine, and zopiclone.
If I am reading the report correctly, the copilot took medical leave twice during the months preceding the crash, and copiloted flights both the day before the crash and earlier that same morning.
The aviation authority’s report noted: “The limited medical and personal data available to the safety investigation did not make it possible for an unambiguous psychiatric diagnosis to be made. In particular an interview with the copilot’s relatives and his private physicians was impossible, as they exercised their right to refuse to be interviewed.” The investigators concluded that it was likely that the copilot suffered from a psychotic depressive episode dating back to December 2014 and lasting until the tragedy.
It’s important to note that German laws are more stringent than American laws about patient privacy: Violations include criminal sanctions. What is striking from the report is that there is so little communication between the physicians, even between physician C, who referred the patient to a psychiatrist, and the treating psychiatrist. In fact, physician C recommended hospitalization, and there is no report that the psychiatrist recommended either time off or hospitalization. We don’t know if the physicians were aware of who else was treating this patient, or if the doctors even knew he was a pilot. It’s even more striking that the physicians of a dead mass murderer can simply refuse to be interviewed by aviation authorities.
When the report came out, forensic psychiatrist Paul Appelbaum tweeted, “Germanwings crash shows results of fetishing privacy when lives are at stake; I’d like to think US drs. would have reported psychotic pilot.” Please note that Dr. Appelbaum’s grammar is restricted by the 140-character limit imposed by Twitter. A tweeted discussion ensued, including Dr. Annette Hanson, over whether it would be better to hospitalize or report a pilot, and if it might be difficult to figure out whom a private psychiatrist would even report to. Dr. Hanson, who favored hospitalization, tweeted, “Creating a duty to report ‘unfitness’ apart from dangerousness could expand to other professions-liability growth.”
It does seem that in the United States, physicians treating pilots with possible psychosis and depression – serious enough to require sedating medications, time off from work, and a recommendation for hospitalization – would likely feel obligated to prevent this patient from flying an aircraft.
The issue seems complicated; if there is no way to obtain confidential treatment, those with psychiatric disorders may well go untreated, especially if those who get care risk losing their livelihoods. We do know this is the case: A survey of pilots who have inquired about the consequences of getting psychiatric care showed that the majority would forgo treatment to maintain their right to fly.
According to the French aviation report: “As an example, the Aviation Medicine Advisory Service ( AMAS ), a U.S.-based company providing aeromedical advice for pilots, reviewed its database of telephone inquiries from pilots between 1992 and 1997. It had received 1,200 telephone inquiries from pilots who had been diagnosed as having clinical depressions and who had been advised by their physicians to take antidepressant medications. These pilots had called AMAS to discuss the aeromedical implications of their situations. O[f] the 1,200 pilots, approximately 60% told the AMAS that they would refuse medication and continue to fly. About 15% indicated an intention to take the medications and continue their flying duties without informing the Federal Aviation Administration. And the remaining 25% said they would take sick leave, undergo the recommended treatment, and return to work when aeromedically cleared to do so. As the data were representative only of pilots who telephoned for information, the [ Aerospace Medical Association ] underlined the fact that the presence of depressed and untreated pilots (or treated without aeromedical supervision) was undoubtedly underreported.”
We might like to believe that psychiatric treatment would offer protection from tragedy, and that regulations that dissuade people from getting help might ultimately create more problems than they solve. In this case, the pilot was seeing a psychiatrist, and, none of his many efforts to get care prevented this suicide/mass murder. I found it interesting that there is no indication that the airline might request more information after the pilot presented two notes from outside doctors requesting sick leave, especially given his history of disabling depression. Still, without input from the physicians and the family, we will never know whether anyone had any indication that the pilot was so imminently dangerous.
Dr. Miller is a coauthor of “Shrink Rap: Three Psychiatrists Explain Their Work” (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University, 2011).
