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Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of against the Odds ad free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. Against the Odds uses dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, may be invented, but everything is based on research. Station Commander Ted Lefever hovers over his communications officer at the Coast Guard Air Base station in Sitka, Alaska, trying to make out reports from his helicopter rescue crews. But it's almost impossible to understand anything over the static. It's 10:30pm On January 30, 1998, three and a half hours since the Coast Guard received a signal from an emergency radio beacon, or EPIRB, about 60 miles off the coast. Since then, they've dispatched two helicopters, one of which is now returning to base because of low fuel. Lefever thought the first helicopter said that there were people in the water but wasn't able to rescue them. But Lafever still isn't sure why. The EPIRB signal is coming from a place called Fairweather Ground, a notorious dead zone for radio communications. The few transmissions they've picked up have been garbled. Now, as the first helicopter gets closer to base, Lafever lefeiver is able to make out some of what Mission Commander Bill attucks is saying. Four survivors. Rogue waves. Wind 75 knots. Waves 70ft. Lafever frowns. Did attuck say 17 or 7d? The first number doesn't explain why they had to abort, but the second number doesn't seem possible. In all his years in the Coast Guard, Lafever's never heard of 70 foot seas. He asks the comms officer to have Attucks repeat himself, and this time the number comes through loud and clear. 70ft. And Attucks is not one to exaggerate. LeFever looks at his comms officer. Call in another crew. We need to launch the third helicopter as backup. Lafever strides from the operations center out to the main hangar to make sure ground crews are readying the third helicopter. The base only has three, and it's common for one of them to be down for maintenance at any given time, and he's gratified to see tonight they've gotten lucky. The third H60 Jayhawk is up and she's running. When he returns to the operations center, he finds the comms officer looking at him. Sir, I've got that third crew picked out. Good. Who's in it? Lieutenant Steve Torpy, Petty Officer Mike Fish, Petty Officer Fred Calt. The comms officer hesitates. And you? Me? There's no one else left. Lafever feels his blood run cold as commanding officer. It's been years since he's flown a rescue mission himself. His only flight experience in Alaska has been on patrols and training exercises. The comms officer must see the alarm on Lafever's face. He tries to sound reassuring. Of course, you'll be mission commander and navigator, sir. Lieutenant Torpy will be the pilot. That that is, unless no, that sounds fine. Torpy's a damn good pilot. With that, LeFever heads up to his office to change into his flight suit. His mind is racing. When was the last time he flew on a rescue crew? He can't remember exactly, but he does recall his most challenging mission, piloting a Jayhawk in a hurricane over the Gulf of Mexico. He's proud of that accomplishment, but that was over a decade ago. He's 46 years old now. Can he still handle himself in conditions that extreme? Then again, this storm can't possibly be worse than a hurricane, can it?
- [04:20]
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- [04:46]
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Terms apply.
- [04:47]
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See capitalone.com for details. When a charming neurosurgeon rode into Western Town selling a Persona of confidence and care, patients trusted him. He wore cowboy boots in the operating room and became sought after by patients. He promised to heal them. Instead, he left a trail of broken bodies. This is a story of greed, betrayal, and a fight for justice. Listen to Dr. Death the Cowboy wherever you get your podcasts or binge the entire series right now only with audible.
- [05:24]
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From Audible Originals. I'm Mike Corey, and this is against the OD yachts. Three and a half hours after their fishing vessel sank off the coast of Alaska, the crew of the Leconti still had not been rescued. One fisherman, Dave Hanlon, had already been swept away by the mountainous waves. Four others remained tied together by a nylon rope and protected by neoprene survival suits. But Captain Mark Morley's suit was leaking and he was becoming hypothermic in the near freezing water. One Coast Guard helicopter had tried and failed to rescue them. Now a second chopper was on the way, with the third being deployed as backup, all flying in one of the Worst Alaska winter storms anyone had ever seen. This is episode three. Hanging on. Bob Doyle pops to the surface, coughing up seawater, and grabs the rope that's tied around his waist. He hopes that his skipper, Mark Morley, is still attached, too. By now, Bob is too weak to hang on to Morley each time a wave hits them. Morley's survival suit began leaking not long after they abandoned ship. Now, hours later, he's in worse shape than Bob or the other two survivors tied to the rope. Mike Dicapoa and Gigi Mork. Bob thinks back to his Coast Guard training. Morley has stopped shivering, which means his core temperature has dropped below 85 degrees, the threshold for profound hypothermia. Blood flow to his extremities has almost stopped. He could lose fingers, toes, even a leg. Or he could die. What Morley needs, what they all need, is to get out of the water. But there's no chance of that anytime soon. After trying and failing for hours to rescue them, a Coast Guard helicopter flew away moments ago, leaving them alone amid the towering waves. Bob reaches Morley, who's floating on his back, limp as a jellyfish. Bob pulls him close, propping the skipper's head on his chest. But seconds later, Bob feels himself rising. They're caught on the face of yet another wave. The wave breaks, slamming Bob and Morley underwater. Bob resurfaces, and suddenly he's not in the ocean anymore. He's behind the wheel of his old car. He's on a winding highway, green hills rolling by. His wife is in the passenger seat, laughing. The wind is in her hair. It has to be a dream, but it seems so real, he can feel the sun on his face. He's just about to turn to his wife and ask if he's dreaming when the scene changes. Now it's night, and the hills are covered with a million twinkling fireflies. And there's a car coming towards them. With his high beams on, he's blinded. He tries to hit the brakes, but nothing happens. The high beams get brighter and brighter as the other car barrels towards him. Another wave hits him, and he snaps out of it. He realizes he was hallucinating. The green hills were waves. The fireflies were ocean spray, lit up by the glow of flares left behind by the Coast Guard. The oncoming headlights were the flashing strobe of the epirb. Bob realizes that he's in worse shape than he thought. He's been so focused on helping Mark Morley that he hadn't noticed that his own suit is now taking on water, too. He can barely feel his legs and he's more tired than he's ever felt. He's probably been drifting in and out of consciousness without even realizing it. He sees Morley floating a few feet away and swims over to help him. Once he has the skipper's head propped on his chest, he slaps himself on the cheeks a few times. He has to stay alert for his skipper, for himself, for all of them. Another helicopter must be on its way. Captain Ted Lefever gathers with his helicopter crew in a side room just off the main hangar at Sitka Air Station. Everyone is ready to go under their flight suits. Each man wears a polar fleece drysuit. On their backs they carry a pair of scuba tanks. The tanks and the dry suits are precautions in the event of a crash, a scenario Lafever tries to put out of his mind. He's about to order his men into the hangar to begin their pre flight checklists when pilot Steve Torpy speaks up. Sir, I don't think we can leave yet. Lafever is stunned. It's now 11:35pm Those survivors have been in the water for four and a half hours. They can't afford to waste a second. Can't leave yet. What are you talking about, Steve? Well, sir, we don't have any night vision goggles. Torpy explains that every pair of goggles is currently out with the first two helicopters. It's so rare for all three helicopters to be deployed at once, especially at night, that no one noticed the shortage until now. Lafever swallows his frustration. Torpy is right. Without the goggles, it will be dangerous to fly at night and next to impossible to spot survivors in the water. The helicopter has a powerful floodlight, but its beam is narrow and really only useful for maintaining visual contact with survivors after they've been found. They have no choice but to wait. Still, that doesn't mean they can't use their time constructively. By now, First Helicopter Commander Bill Adducks has been in clearer radio contact with the base so they have a better idea of what they're up against. Lafever asks his men to start throwing out suggestions. Mike Fish, the rescue swimmer, says they should bring extra flares. Fred Colt, the flight mechanic, offers up some strategies for the rescue basket that he'll deploy. He orders a maintenance man to attach fluorescent green glow sticks to the basket to make it easier for the survivors to spot. Then he goes off in search of something that can be used to weigh the basket down so it won't flap around so much in the wind. When colt returns carrying two 50 pound shop bags. Torpy makes another suggestion. Hey, Fred. Attucks recommends we bring a second flight mechanic. Colt looks taken aback. Two flight mechanics? Why? I guess Witherspoon got pretty overworked by the conditions. They could have used the second guy to help with the basket. LeFever can see Colt is skeptical and jumps in. I agree with Fred. I think it's a good idea. But ultimately it is your call. Colt stands a little straighter and looks the station commander in the eye. I can do this, Captain. I don't need any help. Lafever nods. At the end of the day, he trusts his men to know their limits. When the helicopter is loaded with supplies and ready to go, Lafever and his team climb aboard and take their seats. Out on the Runway, they see blinking lights in the distance. It's Attucks and his crew returning on the first helicopter. Then, at ground level, they see more lights flashing red and white. An ambulance. Lafever watches as the first helicopter lands and two paramedics rush over to it. Wheeling a stretcher, they reach through the cabinside door and lift someone out. The flight mechanic, Sean Witherspoon. His body is limp. They load him onto the stretcher, strap an oxygen mask over his face, and wheel him into the ambulance. Over his headset, Lafever hears Colt's voice. Hey, Captain, maybe having a second flight mech isn't such a bad idea after all. Minutes later, flight mechanic Lee Honnold dashes across the tarmac to join them. At last they have everything they need, including those night vision goggles handed off from the first helicopter. Lafever orders Torpy to take them out. Bob Doyle watches as the second helicopter tries tries yet again to lower its rescue basket without success. A gust of wind blows it sideways before it can reach the water. From somewhere just behind him, Bob hears Mike Decapua shouting. Ah, this is pointless. They're never gonna get us out of here with that thing. Over the roar of the waves and the helicopter's whining engines, Bob shouts back, they will. They know what they're doing, I swear. But the truth is, he's beginning to think that Mike is right. He's not sure how long this second helicopter has been hovering over them, but he suspects it's running low on fuel by now. Soon it will be forced to leave like the first one. He knows the Coast Guard base in Sitka has a third helicopter, but it's rare that all three are available at once. If the first Jayhawk has to reflect fuel and come all the way back. They might be stranded out here for hours. And Mark Morley doesn't have hours. He's barely conscious. Bob keeps holding him up, speaking words of encouragement into Morley's ear, but he can't tell if the skipper can even hear him anymore. Still, Bob has been thinking about what he needs to do. If by some miracle, the rescue basket comes down close to them, he's determined to get Morley into the basket first. But the basket can only hold one person, maybe two if they really squeeze. And because all four men are still roped together, that means that before he can drag Morley to the basket, he'll have to cut the rope. Bob has a knife in a sheath that's tied around his neck with a piece of fishing line, but it's under his survival suit. So when the basket gets close, he'll have to unzip the suit, get out the knife, cut the rope, and then swim for the basket with Morley in tow. And he'll probably have just seconds to do all of that before the next wave comes crashing down on them. As he's going over all of this in his mind, he hears Giggy. Mork. Bob. Bob, look. The basket. It's behind you. Bob turns, and sure enough, he sees the rescue basket come splashing down down nearby. It's the closest it's ever been, no more than 30ft away. Does he dare risk it? Bob starts to unzip his survival suit, but then he sees a massive wave barreling down on them. There's no way he and Morley can reach the basket before it hits them. When Bob resurfaces, the basket is gone. He looks up and sees that the second helicopter is starting to leave. Mike Decapua calls after it, nearly in tears. Oh, you can't just leave us. We're gonna die out here. Bastard. Giggy Morg snaps at him. Mike. Jesus Christ, do you ever stop whining? Bob listens to the two men argue, their voices taking on an increasingly bitter edge. He shouts to interrupt them. Mark. Giggy. Hey, listen up. What do you want, Bob? I want a cigarette. Either of you guys got a cigarette? What? Ugh. Screw you, Bob. Hey, come on, just one smoke. It's a joke. Of course, none of them have cigarettes, and even if they did, it would be impossible to light one. But it gets them to stop arguing, which is exactly what Bob was hoping for. The men decide to get into a circle to stay closer together. It means they bang into each other every time a wave hits them, but it does boost their spirits as more minutes pass with no sign of another helicopter. Gigi calls out to Bob, those coasty friends of yours. Forget about us? Nah, I think they just went for a beer run. They all laugh in spite of everything. And then another wave knocks them under. Captain Ted LaFever flips up his night vision goggles. There's so much rain, snow and sea spray hitting the windshield that it's rendering them useless. It's about 12:25am 40 minutes since LaFever and his team took off from Sitka Air Station in the third helicopter. They're over fair weather ground, trying to home in on the EPIRB signal. But it's slow going. After overshooting the signal, pilot Steve Torpy is now trying to fly towards it through a brutal crosswind. Each gust shoves their 7 ton Jayhawk helicopter sideways like a child's toy. Korpi's also having trouble keeping the helicopter's nose from pitching down. Each time it does, they lose altitude, which sets off an alarm warning that they're getting too close to the ocean surface. Torpy yanks on the collective, a lever that controls the helicopter's altitude until the alarm stops. Meanwhile, with his other hand, he grabs a stick called the cyclic, which he uses to steer. He jerks the cyclic hard to one side as another gust tries to blow the Jayhawk off course. The altitude alarm blares again and Torpy snapshot. Can we silence that damn thing? Captain? Sorry, I just. It's okay, Steve. Yeah, I can watch our altimeter and let you know if we're getting too low. Lafever switches off the alarm and thinks Torpy is one of his best pilots. But they're not even over the survivors yet. And Torpy's already what the military calls task saturated. They need to figure out a way to make his life easier. Then he remembers something another pilot once told him. A trick for flying in conditions like these. Hey, Steve, I got an idea. How do you feel about trying something that's not in the training manual? What do you have in mind? Let's divide the controls. I'll work the collective and keep our altitude stable. That way you can concentrate. Concentrate on the cyclic. Lefever can see that Torpy is hesitant. Splitting the controls is extremely dangerous because both pilots have to be perfectly in sync. If they give conflicting commands to the helicopter's rotors, the rotors could over torque, causing the chopper to spin out of control or suddenly lose altitude. It goes against everything they're taught in flight school. Then again, nothing in flight school really prepares you for flying. In case conditions this extreme. Finally, Torpy nods. Uh, yeah, yeah, let's give it a try. Right away, Lafever sees a difference in Torpy's flying. The helicopter's movements have become sharper, and he adjusts more quickly to the gusting crosswinds. Minutes later, Lafever sees the flash of the EPIRB strobe. He orders flight mechanics Fred Kalt and Lee Honnold to get ready to drop flares around the survivors. Now the real work begins.
- [22:01]
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There are people you're told to trust. Lawyers, teachers, especially doctors. But what happens when you put your life in someone's hands and they betray you? The hit podcast Dr. Death is back, and this season is unlike any other. Dr. Death the Cowboy is the story of a charming neurosurgeon who rode into Western towns selling a Persona of confidence and care. He wore cowboy boots in the operating room and became sought after by patients. He promised to heal them. Instead, he left a trail of broken bodies. This season is about a doctor who was never truly held accountable for the patients whose lives he ruined. The story of greed, betrayal, and a fight for justice that will leave you questioning who to trust. Listen to Dr. Death the Cowboy wherever you get your podcasts or binge the entire series Right now, only with audible.
- [23:07]
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Captain Ted lefever pulls back hard on the collective, raising the helicopter's altitude just in time to dodge an oncoming wave. He can tell they're climbing from the way he feels pinned to his seat, but when he looks at the altimeter, it stays pegged at 40ft. It's measuring the distance to the nearest water below them, and the wave is rising as fast as they're climbing. Finally, the wave breaks and the altimeter jumps to 120ft. LaFever relaxes his grip on the collective that was close. In his headset, he hears flight mechanic Fred Kahl's calmly giving directions to pilot Steve Torpy. Forward and right 50, back and left 30. Torpy responds by maneuvering the helicopter in short, quick bursts, darting this way and that while the Fever does his best to maintain their altitude. At about 100ft above water, they're trying to stay directly over the survivors to maximize Colt's chances of landing the rescue basket near them. They've been at it for over an hour now, but Lafever feels good about how things are going. Torpy is flying with incredible skill. Splitting the controls really seems to be helping, and Colt's drops have been getting even closer to the men in the water. From the back of the helicopter, LaFever hears rescue swimmer Mike Fish over comms hey Captain, maybe I should try going in. I'm sure I can get the basket over to these guys. Lafever considers this. It's true that a rescue swimmer might increase their odds of reaching the survivors. Then again, in a sea state this chaotic, there's also a chance they'll never get him back. No, Mike, it's too risky. Plus, I need you backing me up on the altimeter. Give us a warning if we go below 80ft. Roger that. Fred Calt issues a few more directional commands, then grunts with effort. As yet again he hurls the basket out into the storm. Lafever watches his instruments trying to hold the helicopter level with the ocean surface and prays that with this drop they'll finally get lucky. Bob Doyle can't believe his eyes. The rescue basket has splashed down no more than 20ft away. The closest it's gotten by far. He casts a quick glance at Mike Decapua and Giggy Moore. By now they've all agreed that Mark Morley should go first. But Bob wants to be sure everyone's still on board with that plan. Gigi waves a hand emphatically. Bob Go. Go get Mark in that thing before they hoist it back. Bob takes a deep breath. This is it. He unzips his survival suit and slides the fishing knife from its sheath. A shiver passes through him as the freezing water pours in before he can close his suit up again. But he manages to hold on to the knife. He grabs the half conscious Mark Morley and yells, hey Mark. Mark, wake up. We gotta go. We gotta go now. I'm gonna cut you loose and then you gotta swim for the basket, okay? Morley's eyes flutter, then open wide. He seems suddenly reanimated. Yeah. Yeah, let's go. I can do this. Bob marvels at his skipper's will to survive. This man is determined to see his family again. And Bob thinks, I'm determined to help him. Bob takes his knife and cuts Morley free from the rope. Then he cuts himself loose. Go, Mark. Swim. Swim. Morley starts paddling, or trying to, but his limbs barely move. Bob realizes he's probably frozen stiff from all the seawater that's leaked into his suit. If he's going to reach the basket, Bob's going to have to drag him. Bob grabs the collar of Morley's survival suit and starts swimming. The basket is tantalizingly close. Its steel cage gleams in the Jayhawk's floodlight. Bob kicks as hard as he can, terrified that the next wave will Wash it out of his reach. Then his outstretched hand closes around the edge of the basket. He made it. With his other hand, he pulls Morley closer. Get in, Mark. Get in. Morley flails his arms weakly. I'm trying. I'm trying. But Morley can still barely move. Bob tries dragging him into the basket, then pushing him from behind, but nothing works. The dead weight of Morley's water filled survival suit is too much. Finally, Bob decides to try something else. The basket is just barely big enough for two. Maybe if he climbs in first, he'll have more leverage and can haul Morley in that way. Bob clambers into the basket, then reaches down and grabs Morley under his armpits. Mar Come on then. Move. Move. It works. Little by little, Bob is able to shimmy Morley's arms and torso into the half submerged basket. Morley is about halfway in when Bob feels a sudden jerk. The water falls away beneath them and the basket rises into the sky. Bob realizes that the rescue crew has begun hoisting them back up to the helicopter. But Morley is still dangling halfway out of the basket and now he's hanging on for dear life. Flight mechanic Fred Kalt reels in the rescue basket as fast as the hoist mechanism will allow and calls out over his headset boys, we got one. There's somebody in the basket. But there is a massive wave approaching fast. Kahlt wants to get the basket clear before it hits of the wave clips the basket, sending it spinning under the belly of the helicopter and out of Calt's line of sight. Flight mechanic Lee Honnold grabs the cable and pushes it outward so it won't fray against the edge of the door. When the basket swings back into view again, Colt half expects it to be empty. That wave probably knocked the survivor right out of it. But amazingly he sees a lone figure crouched inside the basket. It Colt reels him in the rest of the way. Survivor is in the cabin door. Bringing him in now he hears Captain Lefevera's voice over his headset. Roger that. Great work, Fred. Colt lets himself crack a smile. That's one down, three to go. The basket is now dangling just outside the open side door with its single occupant inside. On his hands and knees, Colt grabs the edge of the basket's cage to swing it inside so the survivor can climb out. But the basket doesn't move. Halt. Yanks on the basket again. Still nothing. It's like it's caught on something. He calls out daily. Give me a hand with this. Honnold joins Colt and together the Two men pull on the basket with all of their might, but it still won't budge. Colt can't understand it. In all his years in the Coast Guard, he's never seen a basket get stuck like this. This the man in the basket is still crouched on his hands and knees and appears to be gripping the cage like his life depends on it. He's probably in shock or afraid of heights. Colt thinks he's yelling something, but Colt can't hear him over the roar of the helicopter's engine and rotors. Then he hears someone else yelling on his headset. It's the rescue swimmer, Mike Fish. Stop. Stop. Fred. There's a second guy on the basket. Bob Doyle looks down into the terrified eyes of Mark Morley. The whole way up, his grip on Mark's survival suit kept slipping and slipping. By the time they reached the helicopter, Mark had slid all the way out of the basket and was left clinging to its underside. He's too weak to pull himself up. Bob has one handful of the skipper's half inflated neck collar, but now that's slipping too. The flight mechanics don't seem to realize Mark is there. They keep yanking the basket sideways, trying to slide it inside the helicopter. But with each yank, Mark's head and shoulders get slammed into the helicopter's underside, just inches below the open cabin door. No. Wait. Stop. Stop. Bob screams until his throat is raw, but it's no use. The Coast Guard rescuers can't hear him, even though they're only a few feet away. He looks back down at Mark, whose eyes now have a vacant look. Hang on, Mark. Hang on. Hang on. But then the basket gets yanked again. Bob watches, helpless, as his friend's head hits the steel rail just beneath the door frame. The jolt of it knocks Bob's hand from Mark's collar. Bob's eyes lock with Mark Morley's one last time. And then Mark lets go and falls backwards towards the sea. Before Bob can see him hit the water, the basket swings abruptly to one side and Bob tumbles onto the floor of the Jayhawk, sobbing. Mark is gone and he couldn't save him. Flight mechanic Fred Kalt staggers back from the open cabin door, trying to make sense of what just happened. Happened. The man they rescued is sprawled out on the cabin floor, crying hysterically. Colt turns to the rescue swimmer. Mike Fish. Are you sure you saw someone else in the basket? Fish nods. Not in it. He was under it. He fell as soon as you were pulling it in. Colt's stomach drops. Suddenly it all makes sense. The basket being Stuck. The guy they pulled in, yelling and sobbing. He hears Lee Honnold speak up. Up. Do we know how far he fell? Fish looks at the altimeter. 103ft. No one responds. Cult knows they're all thinking the same thing. Hitting water from that height is like hitting concrete. They're snapped out of it by the sobs of the man they did rescue. Cult goes to him. Hey, I'm really. I'm really sorry about your friend. We're gonna get him back, okay? Now you need to tell me how many people were on your boat? Five. There was. There was five, but it's just four now. We. We lost one a while ago. That's four. Including you and the guy who fell. Yeah, that was our skipper. I. I tried to save him, but I could. I let him fall. Hey, buddy, it's okay. Calm down, all right? There was. There was nothing more you can do. What's your next? The man looks up for the first time, tears running down his face. Colt feels like he looks familiar, but he can't place him. I'm. I'm Bob. Bob Doyle. Colt wonders if he heard right. Then he hears Mike Fish cry out. Holy crap. It's Bob Doyle. Our Bob Doyle. All three rescuers can't believe it. Of all the people who for them to pluck out of the middle of the ocean in the worst storm in a decade. It's their former chief warrant officer. The one forced into early retirement for drinking on the job. Colt has a million questions, but no time to ask them. There are at least two other survivors still in the water. Three if the skipper survived his fall. He leans out of the open cabin door to look for the skipper and spots him floating face down. He grimaces and radios to the cockpit over his headset. Steve, let's get back in position over the other two survivors. We're going to prioritize them over the guy who fell. Roger, but we gotta make it quick, Fred. We're almost at bingo fuel. Bingo is the amount of fuel they'll need to fly back to land. So Colt wastes no time. He gets the basket back in position, spots the other two survivors and starts directing Torpy towards them. Colt still feels terrible about losing the skipper, but he can't dwell on that now. They've still got a chance to save more lives. Mike Decapua tries to swim towards the basket, but he can't seem to get his limbs to work. Diggy Mork is basically dragging him, cursing all the way. I swear to God, Mike, if I miss getting into this Basket. Because of you, I'll kill you myself. Go right ahead. You'd be doing me a friggin favor. About 20 minutes ago, they were elated to see Bob Doyle and Mark Morley get pulled to safety. Just as Bob and Mike reached the helicopter, it disappeared from view behind a huge wave. But then it was overhead again, lowering the basket. After a few more tries, it finally dropped close enough for Mike and Gigi to make a dash for it. Somehow they reach the basket and both manage to climb in. But as soon as it begins to rise, a wave crashes into them, plunging both men and the entire basket underwater. For what feels like the millionth time, Mike holds his breath and waits for the wave to spit him back out. But this time he's also trying to cling to the basket, which the wave has sent spinning like a top. He can feel himself getting dizzy, losing his balance and his grip. The basket resurfaces, taking Mike and Gigi along with it. But Mike is starting to fall backwards. The basket's metal bars slip from his grasp and he tumbles out. He hits the water hard and goes under. After a few seconds, his survival suit's buoyant collar pops him back to the surface. He looks around for the helicopter and then for Giggy Mork, but there's no sign of them. He's completely alone. Mike Decapua floats on his back, feeling the blowing sleet and sea spray sting his face. He's so cold. And it's so dark out here, alone in the middle of the ocean. The EPIRB is long gone, having drifted away after Bob Doyle cut the rope tying them all together. The last of the flares dropped by the Coast Guard have almost burned out. He's still wearing his survival suit, but that's been slowly taking on 40 degrees seawater. His hands and legs have gone completely numb from the cold. He hears the helicopter coming back, but can't see it. And he can't imagine them spotting him, not in all this darkness. So he decides that this is probably the end for him. This is how he dies. Frozen to death, a human popsicle in an orange rubber suit bobbing in the way Daves. He wonders if this is how Dave Hanlon felt right before he drifted away and disappeared. Poor Hanlon. The guy was so seasick that he never really stood a chance after they abandoned ship. Mike wishes he'd made more of an effort to get to know Hanlon. He was a damn good fisherman. Mike wishes for so many things. He wishes he'd kept in touch with his daughter. He Wishes that he'd been a better father. Earlier, he had told himself that if he made it through this, he'd do whatever it takes to track them down. Now he'll never see them again. A wave hits him and he starts to cry. He doesn't want to die like this, alone in the cold and the dark. Why couldn't he have just gotten shot in a bar fight or hit by a truck or any other way? Then he sees something through his tears. A green glow coming towards him on the crest of a big wave. At first he thinks he's hallucinating, but then he realizes what it is. The rescue basket. The green is from the glow sticks tied to the cage. Mike wills his numb arms and legs to move. He can't tell if they're responding, but somehow the basket is getting closer. He's rising up the face of a wave to meet it. And then the next thing he knows, he's climbing inside. The helicopter's blinding floodlights shine down on him. And then he feels himself being lifted up. Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Mike Decapo weeps and laughs the whole way up. He can't believe he's getting a second chance. He can't believe he's going to live. Bob Doyle watches as the Coast Guard crew helps Mike Decapua out of the basket. He's glad to see Mike, but he wishes Mark Morley was with him. Bob still clings to a sliver of hope that the skipper might have survived his fall. As the Coasties peel Mike out of his survival suit and transfer him to a thermal bag, he looks around the cabin, confused. Where. Where's Mark? Bob doesn't know what to say. One of the rescuers answers, we. We almost had him, but. But he fell. He fell. Well, what are you waiting for? We gotta get him back. That's exactly what we're trying to do. Mike Decapua collapses on the floor, wrapped in the thermal bag. Bob sits nearby on a jump seat seat next to giggy Morg. All three men are too exhausted to speak. Bob feels the helicopter turning as one of the flight mechanics directs them back towards where they last saw Morley. Then Bob looks up and sees the rescue swimmer standing over him. Bob remembers his name. Mike Fish. Great name for a rescue swimmer. Fish checks Bob's pulse and temperature. So, Mr. Doyle, what exactly were you doing out here? Fishing. Fishing. Can I get you anything? Water? Hot tea? Bob shakes his head. Just get the skipper. Minutes later, Bob sees them lower the rescue basket. They reel it in and try a few More times. From their body language, he can tell whatever's happening, it's not cool. Good. Finally, they reel in the basket one last time, then toss out some flares and slide the cabin door shut. Mike Decapua, still huddled on the floor, cries out, no. No. What? What the hell are you doing? You can't just leave him out there. Mike Fish, the rescue swimmer, kneels down next to him. We tried. Trust me, we tried everything. He's unresponsive. We even bumped him a few times with a basketball. We're almost out of fuel. We gotta head back. Hearing this, Bob Doyle puts his head in his hands. He did everything he could to save Mark Morley, but he let him slip through his fingers. Still, he knows how lucky he, Mike and Gigi are. What these Coast Guard rescuers did to save them is truly incredible. Mike Fish offers them Hobby Hot tea again. And this time Bob gratefully accepts. It occurs to him that a year ago, he was sure that he'd never see inside of a Coast Guard helicopter again. Now he's getting a free ride on one back home to see his kids back to a life that he now feels incredibly grateful for. Captain Ted LeFever steps out of the Jayhawk's cockpit and onto the wet tarmac. It's nearly 4am and he's grateful to finally be back on solid ground. They didn't have enough fuel to get all the way back to Sitka, so instead they've landed on a small airstrip in Yakutat, a coastal village closer to Fairweather Ground. Lefever is is proud of how his crew performed, but as they disembark, he can see how dejected they look. He walks over to them. Listen, I know you're all still thinking about the guy falling, but you can't focus on that, okay? Because of you, three men are going home to their families. Think about the ones we saved, not the ones we lost. The men. I'll nod. Still not quite looking like they believe him. Him. Lafever hopes they'll come around. In the Coast Guard, no one lasts long if they get hung up on their failures. Right as he's thinking this, LaFever happens to look over and see Bob Doyle. When Lafever heard over comms that Doyle was among those rescued, he wasn't sure if he really believed it. But it's the former Chief Warrant Officer alright. Doyle now has a thick reddish gray beard, but otherwise he looks exactly the same as when he stepped into Lefever's office over a year ago. Talking about his divorce and pleading to keep his job. Lafever watches as Doyle helps a medic lift another man out of the helicopter. They place the man on a stretcher, then carry him to the back of a waiting ambulance. When Lafever first met Doyle, he felt nothing but pity and contempt for him. The man was a drunk. Drunk. And Lafever has no patience for drunks, especially ones who put on a uniform and claim to serve their country. But watching Doyle now helping his buddy after spending more than six hours in a freezing storm tossed ocean, Lafever feels a grudging sense of admiration. Maybe those years in the Coast Guard weren't wasted on Bob Doyle after all. Maybe he's the reason any of these men survived. All told, the rescue operation that saved Bob Doyle, Mike Decapua and Giggy Mork took nine hours to complete. Involving three helicopters and 13 Coast Guard rescuers. It remains one of the most daring and elaborate rescue missions in Coast Guard history. Mark Morley's body was recovered the next day, January 31, 1998. Dave Hanlon's remains eventually washed up on an island over 600 miles away, where they were found by hunters. That August, an investigation by the Coast Guard concluded that the Leconte sank due to a, quote, catastrophic event that led to uncontrolled flooding into the ship's hull. The lead investigator also noted that if Captain Mark Morley had heated weather warnings, the sinking could have been avoided. And if the LeConte had been equipped with a life raft, Morley and Hanlon might have survived. The Coast Guard report recommended that the ship's owner not be investigated for criminal negligence. And with that, the investigation was closed. Since the Leconti tragedy, safety regulations have gotten stricter in Alaska's commercial fishing industry. As a result, annual deaths have declined by more than half to an average of around nine per year. But fishing in Alaska is still one of the most dangerous jobs in the United States. Captain Ted LaFever and his crew all receive medals for their efforts in rescuing the survivors of the laconic. After recovering from hypothermia and returning home, Bob Doyle, Mike Decapua and William Giggy Mork all went right back to fishing. But in 1999, Mike took a break to fly to Spokane, Washington, where he was reunited with his daughters for the first time in two decades. One of them had read about the Leconti and tracked Mike down. As for Bob Doyle, he was determined to stay in Atlanta, Alaska, to be close to his kids. But eventually he gave up fishing and drifted back to New England, where he grew up. He no longer works on the sea, but he still keeps a picture of Mark Morley in his wallet. Seven and a half months after the LeConte sank, Mark Morley's fiance gave birth to a boy. She named him Mark. From Audible Originals this is episode three of our three part series Coast Guard rescue on Alaska's high seas. A quick note about our scenes in most cases we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we recommend the books the Last Run by Todd Lewin and Coming Back Alive by Spike Walker. You can also listen to the audiobook version of Coming Back Alive right now on Audible. Produced by Audible. I'm your host Mike Corey. Andy Herman wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennessy. Sound design by Joe Richardson, engineered by Sergio Enriquez Original theme music Scott Velasquez and 2K for freeze on Sync Fact checking by Alyssa Jung Perry Produced by Emily Frost Managing Producer Desi Blaylock Senior producers Andy Herman and Austin Rackless Executive Producer for Audible Jenny Lauer Beckman, Head of Creative Development at Audible Kate Navin, Head of Audible Originals North America Marshall Louie Chief Content Officer Rachel Gyatsi Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals, LLC Sound recording copyright 2026 by Audible Originals LLC. Follow against the Odds on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of against the Odds ad free by joining Audible.