A tragedy has occurred, so I will start with what we know. Sixty-seven people died suddenly and traumatically when American Airlines flight 342 collided with a US Army helicopter above the Potomac River near Washington, DC. Sixty passengers and four crew members were aboard the AA jet. Three were on board the Army helicopter. There were no survivors.

Sixty-seven people died. Sixty-seven human beings with unique thoughts, desires, hopes, dreams. Sixty-seven people with families were forever changed by the tragedy. I can only imagine the pain that has crashed into the lives of the survivors. Throughout my career, it occasionally fell to me to carry the news of the death of a loved one to a family. I have seen grieving people collapse to the floor in agony. I have heard their cries. I have watched them as sobs wracked their bodies. I have been a witness to a fraction of the pain that has come from this tragedy. I know a bit about the stages of grief and the process of walking through grief with others.

There were figure skaters on the plane, some with their parents. There were coaches beloved by those they had led. Men and women, youths and adults, tragedy upon tragedy.

Whatever we do, we must never forget the depth of the loss. We must honor that loss with careful work to learn all we can from the accident to help prevent another similar tragedy in the future.

Although not current and no longer flying as a pilot in command, I trained as a pilot. I earned my license. I flew passengers in light aircraft. I grew up in a family of pilots. I have worked on a crew that recovered the wreckage of an airplane that crashed into a hillside. I know a bit about the procedures of the National Transportation Safety Board and the Federal Aviation Administration as they carefully examine every bit of evidence that they can understand the cause of an accident. I have read the reports of thousands of aviation accidents to see what can be learned from them to prevent future accidents. I know how careful the investigators are being. I know they will take their time, examine every clue, and examine their reports for possible errors before official statements on the cause of the crash.

It is too soon to draw conclusions.

In the Internet age, with access to vast amounts of data, I have watched the video of the accident. I have listened to the recordings of the conversation between Air Traffic Control and the pilots. I understand the specialized language they speak. I heard the voice of a helicopter pilot who has now died as they stated with confidence that they had the traffic in sight and asked for permission to take responsibility for visual separation. I heard those voices again as the controller asked them, and they repeated their response. I have looked at the procedures of how traffic is separated in one of the busiest corridors of air traffic in the world. I have watched the data of the flight paths superimposed on images of the terrain below. I understand the airliner's path as it followed an approach to runway one followed by a change to runway 33 as directed by ATC. Regan Washington has three runways that all intersect with each other. All of them are less than 20 feet above the level of the river. All three require flying over the river when winds require traffic to land northbound.

I understand the focus required to fly a precision visual approach to a shorter runway at night with the city's lights and multiple other aircraft visible. I know how hard it is to distinguish other moving aircraft at night while maintaining precise altitude and glide path control. I have flown into airports where controllers work with civilian and military flights. I understand that they work with multiple frequencies. I know the pilots of the CRJ could hear only the controller and not the helicopter pilots. The helicopter pilots could not hear the radio calls of the CRJ plane. ATC personnel handle complex radio assignments and manage multiple planes every day at Reagan Washington National Airport. The pilots of both aircraft were working hard, doing what they knew how to do. The controllers were aware of the situation and reacted appropriately.

There is a lot we know. But there is a lot we do not know. We do not know why the two aircraft reached the same point at the same altitude when one should have been above the other. We do not know if the helicopter crew was wearing night vision goggles, restricting peripheral vision. We do not know what they saw that they mistakenly identified as the CRJ. Some things we do not know will become apparent and be reported as investigators complete their detailed and careful work. Some things will remain mysteries as the evidence died with the pilots.

I return to where I started. What is clear is that there is a tremendous amount of grief and sorrow. And I understand that anger is part of the grieving process. Some people with limited emotional range turn to anger more quickly than others. Those who are unable to admit hurt seem to be constantly angry. Those who have no empathy for the pain of others speak the language of anger. Angry speech does not focus on accuracy.

The President was factually false in blaming the former administration's diversity, equity, and inclusion policies for the accident and in claiming that he understood its cause. He spoke without evidence. His main political tactic is to lash out with anger and blame. He was wrong to do so when the people he was elected to lead need understanding in the midst of grief, healing in the midst of pain, and calm in the search for answers.

As former Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg posted on social media, “President True now oversees the military and the FAA. One of his first acts was to fire and suspend some of the key personnel who helped keep our skies safe. Time for the President to show actual leadership and explain what he will do to prevent this from happening again.”

This is not the time for blame. It is the time for grief. It is the time to seek answers. And it is the time for leaders who understand what time it is.