 Marine Captain Jamar Rezlard just fell 15,000 feet after ejecting from his fighter jet. He's alive but adrift in the Pacific Ocean, miles from anywhere. He has a radio, a life raft, and a location beacon. And every reason to believe that he will be rescued. Rezlard's jet crashed mid-air during a refueling exercise off the coast of Japan. Records show that Rezlard and his fellow Marines were set up to fail in the weeks and months before the crash. ProPublica conducted interviews and obtained thousands of pages of internal documents, many of them confidential, to piece together what happened. The mission was part of a week of around-the-clock flying that would test readiness for war with North Korea. The plan was for two F-18 Hornets to take off, refuel off a tanker in mid-air, and then land again. Pilots must fly constantly to keep their skills sharp. The minimum number of flight hours for maintaining proficiency is about 16 a month. Squadron 242's aviators were down to about six. Squadron Commander James Compton had been warning his superiors for months. But nothing changed. If you lack the ability to have the people to work on the airplanes and the parts to maintain the airplanes, then you can't generate a meaningful flight hour. If you can't generate a meaningful flight hour, then you can't hit the, you know, the key skills in order to keep an air crew proficient. His pilots were getting rusty. Two-thirds of their jets were out of commission. If war broke out, they weren't qualified to handle most of their core tasks, like taking out a target in enemy territory. On the night of the crash, the fighter jets approached the tanker for refueling. They need night-vision goggles to see in the moonless dark. But theirs were prone to blurring and sudden inverting. Problems were so common the Air Force recommended that model not be fielded at all. Captain Reslard, along with his weapons officer, Captain Austin Smith, are in the second jet, Profane-12. Reslard wasn't ready for this mission. His night-time refueling qualification had expired. But because of a glitch in the Marine Corps tracking system, nobody knew. Captain Marslard was not a pilot who was haphazard in his approach to anything. He was not a cavalier man. Yeah, he walked with swagger, but he was not careless. Flying over 280 miles per hour, they connect to the hoses at the back of the tanker. Once they finish refueling, the lead jet, Profane-11, disconnects first. Standard procedure would call for Reslard to join Profane-11 on the right side of the tanker and depart from there. But Captain James Wilson, the lead pilot, throws a curveball. He directs Reslard to stay left. Later, Wilson asks the tanker to shift to the left, too, away from him and closer to Reslard. Then, Reslard's plane makes an unexpected move, crossing over the tanker. There's almost no time that I can think of where that would be a normal thing to do. Whenever you cross, it's always underneath. It's not known why Reslard drifts. It's possible he panics or is simply disoriented or exhausted. Marine Corps protocol recommends pilots be given up to four weeks to adjust sleep schedules to flying at night. Compton's pilots had just a few days. That night, they were so impaired by fatigue, it was like they had a blood alcohol level above the legal driving limit. Suddenly, Reslard corrects back, soaring down into the left, straight for the tanker. From the other jet, Wilson sees the sparks from Reslard and Smith ejecting. Then, nothing but flames. The five Marines on the tanker are trapped. The entirety of the Sumo Karui KC-130 team did not survive. Wilson radios Japanese flight control for help. Japanese defense forces can launch rescue operations in 15 minutes. But Marine Corps leaders didn't ask them to be on alert, so they weren't. Meanwhile, Reslard and Smith are parachuting down, falling for about 20 minutes. The water is 68 degrees. At that temperature, you can last anywhere between two and seven hours before you lose consciousness. From that point on, you know, it's a race against the elements in time and just your ability to survive whatever it is that you just went through. In this case, it was a pretty catastrophic collision. Reslard is in bad shape. Blood is pooling on his brain. He can't get his radio to work. The Marine Corps hadn't set it to automatically transmit location. He inflates his raft, but can't pull himself aboard. His neck is injured, and he's at risk of drowning. Reslard turns on his Garmin watch, tracking his heart rate, and waits. Two and a half hours after the crash, the first Japanese rescue helicopter takes off, more than 200 miles away. Then one of the helicopters spots Smith, the Weapons System Officer, or WISO. We get a call and says, hey, one of the WISO has been found. He's alive. He's okay, and we're bringing him back. They shouldn't be that far apart. It's the other frustrating thing here. But can we all know where we found one? You know, the ejection sequence is only like a third of a second apart. The winds and the conditions would be very similar, so you're thinking, gotta be somewhere close. It's like, why, why can't we find? Can't Reslard. In the seat of every fighter jet, there's a location beacon. Its purpose is to send out location information so missing aircrew can be rescued. Reslard's beacon malfunctioned in the water, sending no signal. In at least two previous accidents, this model stopped working when submerged in water. Senior Marine Corps leaders knew the beacon was flawed, but did nothing. So the squadron purchased its own replacements. But just weeks before, the Marine Corps banned them, saying they were unauthorized. Difficult to find somebody in the water. It wasn't signal. Without a signal to follow, the rescue planes aimlessly scanned the Pacific below. The only thing that you can probably see above the water is their helmet. It's gonna look like a speck of dust out there on a big, dark sea. Nine hours after the crash, a Japanese Coast Guard ship spots Reslard. But the waves are too strong and the ship's deck too high to safely pull him in. They call another ship. At 1130, Reslard's heart stops. Less than an hour later, a rescue ship finally pulls Reslard's body aboard. I believe that had we had a quicker response time, we at least have had a chance to get him to some medical attention and given him a chance. Six Marines died in a crash that was caused by a crew that was dangerously fatigued that wasn't granted the minimum required hours of ongoing training that wasn't qualified for the risky maneuver that was sent out without search and rescue on alert and was forced to use faulty equipment. The Marine Corps' public investigation blamed the crew for being reckless in the air that night. They said Compton created nonchalant attitudes towards safety and they attacked the squadron's character citing unprofessional behavior like taking selfies in the cockpit, an unrelated conduct like off-duty drinking, and a case of adultery. The investigation didn't mention the squadrons ignored pleas for help or the faulty beacon and essentially absolved senior leaders of responsibility. Compton was relieved of his duties four months later. The United States Marine Corps, an organization which I've loved and devoted my life to, I want to make sure that it learns from this tragedy. It has to. So I don't, you know, I do blame myself. I will always blame myself. So, you know, you relieved me of command. It's okay. But it didn't fix the problem. The only thing preventing another thing like this from occurring is, frankly, luck.