November 25th 2023.
On the wall of Dr Jim Swire and his wife’s bedroom hangs a painting of their daughter, Flora. She’s smiling, dressed in white and clutching a bunch of flowers in her right hand while poignantly holding out a forget-me-not in her left. It’s a reminder of the daughter they lost in the Lockerbie disaster, when Pan Am Flight 103 exploded over Scotland in December 1988. Jim and his wife Jane are still coming to terms with the tragedy, but Jim has never stopped fighting for justice – to ensure the plight of his daughter and the 269 other victims are remembered.
“It’s a life sentence, to lose someone that you love so deeply,” Jim, now 87, tells The Agency over Zoom from his Cotswolds home. He has spent nearly 35 years researching what happened that night and his shelves are packed with documents, folders, books and tapes, testament to his dedication.
“She was my eldest daughter. And her integrity and intelligence was snuffed out in an avoidable disaster. And then the truth was concealed by those who should have been eager to reveal the truth,” he says.
After Jim received the awful news, he and Jane went to Lockerbie to identify Flora’s body. It was being held in an ice rink because it was the only place large enough for so many fatalities. Jim asked to see an undamaged part of her body, and identified her by a pigmented spot on a toe of her left foot. Jane didn’t want to go as she wanted to remember Flora as she had last seen her; full of life.
The mid-air bombing killed 259 passengers and crew, and 11 people on the ground. Debris was spread 18 miles across the border into England, making it the biggest crime scene in history. Locals were left traumatised after finding corpses strewn across the fields – some still strapped to their seats – near the small Borders town.
Rev John Mosey’s 19-year-old daughter, Helga, was also on the flight. He had driven her from Birmingham to Heathrow, checked her bags and kissed her goodbye. He and his wife Lisa and 15-year-old son Marcus were watching news coverage of the crash when they realised Helga was on the flight. Rev Mosey says: “What we were seeing on the television was another world; nothing to do with us. But my wife said: ‘That’s Helga’s plane.’ And there was a stunned silence that seemed to go on forever.”
It soon emerged that the victims’ families wouldn’t just have to live with the grief; but that they would have to learn to live with the agonising fact that opportunities to prevent the deaths had apparently been missed. Jim was unwillingly catapulted from bereaved family member, to unofficial spokesman for the relatives, and when he met a specialist in aviation security at the Department of Transport in the weeks after the disaster his faith in the authorities was irrevocably shaken. The official told Jim that in October 1988, a warning had been issued that there was a credible threat that a bomb could be put on a flight.
“It made me so angry; the idea that beautiful Flora, who we loved so dearly, that her safety should have been in the hands of people so incompetent,” he says. It later emerged that American agencies had also received warnings about the possible bombing of a Pan Am flight, but they were not passed on to the British public. “A prime function of any government is to protect its citizens against those who wish to kill them – and that had not been done.” Jim’s fight for the truth continues.
On the wall of Dr Jim Swire and his wife’s bedroom hangs a painting of their daughter, Flora. She’s smiling, dressed in white and clutching a bunch of flowers in her right hand while poignantly holding out a forget-me-not in her left. Jim and his wife can never forget Flora.
Ever since she was killed when Pan Am Flight 103 exploded over Lockerbie in December 1988, Jim has fought relentlessly to ensure her plight, and that of 269 others, is remembered. He explains to The Agency over Zoom from his Cotswolds home that ‘It’s a life sentence, to lose someone that you love so deeply.’ Crowding him are shelves packed with documents, folders, books and tapes amassed from nearly 35 years of research into exactly what happened that night just before Christmas.
Jim had been writing Christmas cards when Jane told him a plane had come down over Scotland. He immediately called Pan Am and was told the dreadful news that Flora had been on that flight. Flora, a neurology student, was just about to turn 24 when she took the flight to New York to spend Christmas with her boyfriend.
Jim asked to see an undamaged part of her body and identified her by a pigmented spot on a toe of her left foot. Jane didn’t want to go along, because she ‘didn’t want to see her when she had been killed. I wanted to remember her as I had last seen her; full of life. She was our first born. She was everything that a parent could wish for; beautiful and intelligent. We were very proud of her.’
The mid-air bombing killed 259 passengers and crew, and 11 people on the ground, and spread debris 18 miles across the border into England; at 845 square miles it was the biggest crime scene in history. The plane destroyed homes, victims’ bodies were vaporised and locals were left traumatised after finding corpses strewn across the fields - some still strapped to their seats - near the small Borders town.
Rev John Mosey’s 19-year-old daughter, Helga, was also on the flight. Helga, ‘a bright, caring person’ who was a talented musician and singer and destined for great things had been working in New York. John drove her from Birmingham to Heathrow, checked her bags and kissed her goodbye. That evening he got a call from a concerned parishioner, reporting a plane crash.
John was watching news coverage of the crash when they realised his daughter, Helga, was on the flight. He says: ‘It didn’t occur to me at all. What we were seeing on the television was another world; nothing to do with us. But my wife said: “That’s Helga’s plane.” The silence was broken by Marcus shouting “No, no, no!” And then eventually, my wife – “Helga, Helga” – was hardly able to crawl out of her mouth. I couldn’t find any words at all.’
It soon emerged that the victims’ families wouldn’t just have to live with the grief; but that they would have to learn to live with the agonising fact that opportunities to prevent the deaths had apparently been missed. Jim was unwillingly catapulted from bereaved family member, to unofficial spokesman for the relatives. He found out that in October 1988, a warning had been issued that there was a credible threat that a bomb could be put on a flight, and American agencies had also received warnings about the possible bombing of a Pan Am flight.
Jim was filled with fury at the incompetence of the authorities. He says: ‘A prime function of any government is to protect its citizens against those who wish to kill them – and that had not been done. That was something that was key to my fury, discovering that the reason why Flora was able to buy a ticket just before she wanted to fly, was because American people around the world were warned off, while we were never told anything – and our government did nothing effective to prevent the disaster.’
Jim and Jane, along with Rev John Mosey and his family, have had to live with the pain of losing their loved ones for more than thirty years. Their stories are told in the Sky documentary Lockerbie produced by production company Mindhouse. Jim and John hope that, by sharing their story, the world can learn from the tragedy and remember those who were taken too soon.
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