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Moderate rain was falling outside at Fort Lauderdale’s Sunny South
Aircraft Service. The date was April 24, 1979. A 20 year old man identified
as Atta Ullah Raja approached Denise McLennen at the operations counter
of SSAS and asked if they carry I.F.R. charts for the Bahamas. She called
over Charles B. Cady, vice Pres. of Finance at SSAS. Raja repeated the
question. Cady responded that they didn’t carry charts at Sunny South,
“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow when the weather would be better.”
Denise McLennen agreed.
At this point a 6 foot tall bearded man walked up.
“Look, if you want to wait until tomorrow, it’s okay with us.
We are not in that big a hurry.”
Raja appeared upset and slightly nervous. He replied
emphatically: “Look, do you want to go or not? I will either
take you or leave you here.”
Chuck Cady then tactfully excused himself and walked
across the lobby.
Bahamanian customers were waiting and one spoke to Raja.
“Why don’t you guys get a hotel room and have a good night
sleep. The weather will probably be better tomorrow.”
Disregarding the advice, Raja and his friend left the lobby for the tarmac.
About 7.p.m. Chuck Cady noticed the Cherokee was on the tarmac
preparing to taxi.
Four occupants were seen in the Cherokee. They were Raja, Don Keyhoe,
Dean Atran, and George Miller, all of whom had flown to Fort Lauderdale with Raja from Dulles National Airport in Washington D.C. that morning.
The Cherokee took off normally and climbed steadily. At 2,000 and at 3,000 feet Raja checked in routinely. A short distance off the coast, Raja called Departure Control. The time was 7:19 p.m. The transmission was poor.
“Departure Control ah Cherokee four eight . . .”
“Cherokee eight zero juliet, go ahead.”
“Ah request ah we’ll go back to to back to Fort Lau . . .”
“Eight zero juliet, you’re breaking up. You wanna go back to Lauderdale? Are
you having a problem? [no response] Eight zero juliet . . .Eight zero juliet?”
“Ah, this is — seven four eight zero juliet, we are having a problem.”
“Okay, what’s your problem? [no response]. Eight zero juliet, Miami. . . one,
two, three, three two one, do you read? Eight zero juliet, Miami. . . one, two, three, three two one, do you read?”
A minute went by with no response. Radar was tracking the Cherokee. Raja would not or could not respond.
“November eight zero juliet, November seven four eight zero juliet, Miami.”
The blip on the scope now banked into a right turn to come around.
Apparently they were all right. The Cherokee continued to advance. It was
now about 6 miles off the coast southeast of Fort Lauderdale. The radar made another complete sweep and this time there was no blip. The alarm was
immediately sounded.
The area of ocean by Dania Pier (where it vanished) was searched quickly
by the USCGC Cape Gull. The search lasted for days and was expanded
northward in case of drift. The Coast Guard also determined that the life vests
carried on board had water activated lights. But this seemed useless in the rough seas, which were running around 10 feet high. No trace was ever found, no lights were ever seen.
Despite the appearance that Raja gave at SSAS, records showed that he possessed an instrument rating which qualified him to fly in IMC (Instrument Meteorological Conditions) in the mild to moderate conditions that prevailed. His
lack of a chart was irrelevant since he never got far enough from the coast to need one. He had flown from Dulles that morning without incident.
What problem was he having? Was it unknown to him, or did an argument finally come to a head in the plane and his friends insisted on returning to wait out the storm and get a chart to the Bahamas for the next day?
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