Post Reports: “A teddy bear, an ice skate: What remains from last year's deadly D.C. plane crash”

Date: February 2, 2026
Host: Martine Powers
Guest/Reporter: Emma Uber

Episode Overview

This episode marks the one-year anniversary of the tragic plane crash at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, in which an American Airlines flight was clipped by a Black Hawk helicopter, killing all 67 onboard. Many victims were figure skaters returning from a competition. Reporter Emma Uber shares an intimate, deeply reported story, focusing on the personal items recovered, the experiences of grieving families, and the first responders who carried out the recovery. The episode reflects on loss, the persistence of memory, and the ways survivors and responders seek comfort and closure.

Key Discussion Points and Insights

1. Personal Objects as Enduring Connections ([02:54])

Personal items found: A brown teddy bear, an ice skate, a wedding ring, a working phone, and a handwritten note—each piece tethering the memory of the victims to their loved ones.
Alydia Livingston’s teddy bear: The stuffed animal accompanied 11-year-old Olidia everywhere, including to reading lessons and figure skating practice. After the crash, her grandparents requested divers to search specifically for “Brown Teddy.”
- Quote: “I know there were other things I probably should have asked for, but I wanted Brown Teddy. We had to get Brown Teddy.”
  — Martha Livingston, grandmother ([04:44])

2. The First Response and Recovery Effort ([05:50])

Scene of chaos and heroism: More than 300 first responders rushed to the Potomac River scene.
- DC Police Officer Tim Ochenschlager recalls hearing “Crash, crash, crash. This is alert three. Crash. Crash, crash” over the direct line with the airport ([06:43]).
- Divers worked in frigid water, their iPhones pinged with lost AirTags, reminders of the victims’ unfinished travels.
- Quote: “Everybody quietly knew that it was something we had never witnessed before.”
  — Robert Varga, DC police diver ([07:38])
- Quote: “I can still feel it in the back of my throat, the smell of jet fuel.”
  — Tim Ochenschlager ([07:50])
Immediate realization of loss: Within an hour, it was clear there would be no survivors.
- First responders shifted their focus to helping families get closure.
- Quote: “Who are our victims now?... It was the families of those people.”
  — Chief John A. Donnelly Sr., DC Fire and EMS ([08:29])

3. The Families’ Journey to Closure ([11:52])

Full recovery of victims: By February 4, all 67 victims’ remains were recovered and identified.
- Quote: “There was nothing more important to us... Everything we did was to ensure that families could have some form of closure.”
  — Lindsay Appiah, DC’s Deputy Mayor for Public Safety and Justice ([12:33])
Medical examiner’s role: The process, while scientifically smooth, was emotionally grueling.
- Chief Medical Examiner Francisco Diaz, who had handled mass casualties before, said this case’s interaction with families was profoundly different.
- Quote: “The medical examiner cannot bring anybody back to life. All you can do is provide a little respite.”
  — Francisco Diaz ([13:29])
- Notable moment: A grieving mother asked Diaz, “Can I touch you? You were the last person to touch my son.”
Extended ripples of loss: Families share stories of missing loved ones in everyday routines—the “year of firsts.”
- Notable personal stories:
  - Kylie Pitcher faces her first winter without her husband Jesse, realizing all the small things he once did ([14:22]).
  - Chris Collins’ instinct to text his brother Matt with football scores, and Hamad Raza’s memories of his wife Oster Hussein, lost in the crash.

4. Remembrance and Storytelling ([15:30])

Healing through stories: Martha and Chris Livingston keep family traditions alive by compiling photo books, but now two grandchildren are missing. Martha authors a new story from the perspective of Brown Teddy, Lydia’s cherished bear.
- The story gently explains the crash and its aftermath.
- Quote: “The Bear... is joyful and sorrowful at the same time.”
  — Martha Livingston, via Brown Teddy’s story ([16:44])

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

Martha Livingston on Brown Teddy:
“I know there were other things I probably should have asked for, but I wanted Brown Teddy. We had to get Brown Teddy… To get Brown Teddy back to me, it was my connection to them.” ([04:44])
Robert Varga, diver:
“Everybody quietly knew that it was something we had never witnessed before.” ([07:38])
John A. Donnelly Sr., Fire Chief:
“Who are our victims now? We don’t have anybody to save from the plane or the helicopter. It was the families of those people... We needed to make sure we supported the families and got them reunited with their loved ones. That was number one.” ([08:29])
Chief Medical Examiner Diaz:
“The medical examiner cannot bring anybody back to life. All you can do is provide a little respite.” ([13:29])
- (After a meeting) “Can I touch you? You were the last person to touch my son.” ([13:51])
Kylie Pitcher, widow:
“It’s the year of the firsts.” ([14:34])
Martha Livingston’s story:
“The Bear… is joyful and sorrowful at the same time.” ([16:44])

Segment Timestamps

[00:41] Martine Powers introduces the story and the reporting focus
[02:54] Emma Uber narrates the opening, focusing on the teddy bear and other artifacts
[05:50] The response, the role of divers, and first responder accounts
[11:52] The recovery, the medical examiner’s process, and lingering grief
[15:30] Families’ remembrance, the storytelling through Brown Teddy

Tone & Style

The episode is solemn yet compassionate, favoring storytelling built from firsthand experiences. The reporting is empathetic, occasionally raw, exercising restraint and respect for the subject matter. The tone is woven from Emma Uber’s story, first-person interviews, and moments of unfiltered grief and hope.

Summary Takeaway

Through recovered relics—a child’s teddy bear, a skater’s ice boot, a simple loving note—the episode paints an intimate portrait of tragic loss and the communal work toward healing and honoring memory. The focus on personal objects and the compassionate response of officials and first responders reveal not just the horror of the event, but the depth of connection and care forged in its aftermath. The story is a meditation on grief, closure, and the persistence of love.

Transcript

A (0:00)

A biotech firm scaled AI responsibly. A retailer reclaimed hours lost to manual work. An automaker now spots safety issues faster. While these organizations are vastly different, what they have in common sets them apart. They all worked with Deloitte to help them integrate AI and drive impact for their businesses. Because Deloitte focuses on building what works, not just implementing what's new. The right teams, the right services and solutions. That is how Deloitte's clients stand out. Deloitte together makes progress.

B (0:41)

Hey there, it's Martine. Today I want to share with you a story that I haven't been able to stop thinking about these past few days. Last week marked the one year anniversary of the horrific plane crash at Ronald Reagan Washington national airport just outside D.C. a Black Hawk helicopter collided with an American Airlines passenger jet over the Potomac River. 67 people were killed. As you might recall, many of those people were members of the figure skating community coming back from a competition in Wichita. The crash raised major questions about crowded airspace, air traffic controller staffing and the number of similar close calls at this airport and at others. Recently, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board said the accident was 100% preventable. I think about this crash a lot. DCA is my go to airport and in the past year every time I've taken off or landed there, I gaze out the window down at this wide flat stretch of the Potomac and I wonder what would it have been like to be there in the hours after that crash? What did it take to carry out that kind of recovery effort and to try to give some comfort to these families? Those are some of the questions that my colleague Emma Uber sought to answer. She's a reporter for the Metro section here at the Post, and in the past few weeks and months she has been speaking to family members of the victims as well as first responders and city officials to understand better how the aftermath played out and how they think about what they went through. There are so many details here that are truly unforgettable and it's one of those things where I could interview Emma about her reporting or I could just let Emma share that story herself, just as it was written. So here is Emma reading that story.

C (2:54)

The brown teddy bear smelled like oil and jet fuel. It was tucked inside the Pink backpack of 11 year old Alydia Livingston, along with her headphones, journal and a pencil topped with a rubber unicorn. The backpack and its contents came home to her grandparents in Richmond. Lydia didn't. The girl, her 14 year old sister Everly and parents Donna and Peter were aboard American Eagle Flight 5342, the plane clipped by an army helicopter over the Potomac river as it prepared to land at Reagan National Airport. No one in either aircraft survived. In the weeks and months after the crash that killed 67 people, small personal treasures retrieved from the water would find their way to the places where they held meaning a man's wedding ring discovered as a diver sifted through sand at the bottom of the river. A phone that still worked, showing Astra Hussain's last moments were spent planning a dinner party for her friends. A note Jesse Pitcher's wife slipped into his suitcase like she did every time he went away. This one encouraging him to stay safe on his hunting trip and the bearthe one Olidia named Brown Teddy that rarely left her side. When schools shuttered during the pandemic, Alidia's grandmother, Martha Livingston, would include Brown Teddy in their reading lessons to keep the restless kindergartener engaged. When Alidia and her sister continued virtual school so they could travel to New Jersey each week to practice figure skating, Brown Teddy made every trip. Days after the crash, Martha and her husband, Chris, were asked if there was anything special they hopes the divers might find. I know there were other things I probably should have asked for, but I wanted Brown Teddy. We had to get Brown Teddy, martha said in an interview with the Washington Post earlier this month. To get Brown Teddy back to me, it was my connection to them. A year after the crash, the grief still comes in waves. On the eve of the anniversary, families linked by the tragedy gathered at DAR Constitution hall in D.C. to honor the strangers who stepped in to help them carry the sudden and lingering sorrow. The hotel employee who in the days after the crash offered families a warm drink and a listening ear. The mortician who has called a man's parents nearly every week to check on them. The scuba divers who returned day after day to the frigid water in search of items that might give people some small measure of comfort. The Post interviewed a dozen family members, friends, first responders and city officials, some speaking publicly for the first time about the moments immediately after the disaster, the months long recovery effort and the enduring toll it took on them. First responders said they're still haunted by what they saw in the river. One diver said in his 13 years of law enforcement, he'd never been confronted with the death of a child. Not long after the crash, he found a small ice gate, its meaning unmistakable. DC Police Officer Tim Ochenslager was sitting at the front desk of harbor patrol at 8:48pm on January 29, 2025, when the Red phone rang, he picked up the direct line to National Airport and heard a commotion in the air traffic control tower. Then crash, crash, crash. This is alert three. Crash. Crash, crash. Moments later, a 911 dispatcher called. Someone had reported a fireball over the Potomac had fallen into the water. More than 300 first responders from the D.C. region and as far away as Baltimore and the Eastern Shore would race to the scene. Ochenschlager, a trained scuba diver, made a flurry of calls, dispatching an airboat to navigate the icy waters and summoning his colleagues. His boat soon met up with another that had tied off to the airplane wing protruding from the water. A sheen of oil danced on the water's surface, illuminated by the flashing emergency lights of ambulances and fire trucks stationed on the Runway. Everybody quietly knew that it was something we had never witnessed before, said D.C. police diver Robert Varga, a 16 year veteran. I can still feel it in the back of my throat, the smell of jet fuel, said Ochenschlager. As they worked, alerts began to pop up on their iPhones reading Airtag found moving with you from the trackers some victims had attached to their luggage. Those notifications reminded Ochenschlager of how close the passengers had been to a safe landing, of how some family members were probably already waiting at the airport. There would be no survivors. That was clear almost from the start, said D.C. fire and EMS Chief John A. Donnelly Sr. In an interview with the Post earlier this month. He described a meeting held at the one hour mark of the rescue operation, where commanders confronted that grim truth. There, he said, they redefined who the first responders were there to serve. Who are our victims now? We don't have anybody to save from the plane or the helicopter. It was the families of those people, donnelly said. We needed to make sure that we supported the families and got them reunited with their loved ones. That was number one. Pulling bodies from the water was the first difficult task. Identifying them was the next. The medical examiner's office relied on fingerprints, dental records for young children, DNA. D.C. police detectives then individually notified each family. In the days after the crash, Donnelly and other officials visited the hotel in Bethesda, Maryland, where the Red Cross had arranged for victims families to stay. Meanwhile, the International association of Firefighters set up a peer support hub near the river. In those first few days, IAFF General President Edward Kelly said nearly 75% of the first responders stopped by to speak with counselors. Meetings with the families lasted hours, Donnelly said and he learned that the kindest thing he could be was direct. But as blunt as he needed to be in delivering the devastating news, he was determined to speak just as plainly in his promises. When families asked if everyone in the river would be found, Donnelly said some federal agencies encouraged him not to make any promises. He didn't listen. I was like, no, I am sure, he said, knowing the people involved, we will recover your loved ones. Nobody is going to be lost. I knew it was a risk, but I also knew it was important to say.