Newly released bodycam footage shows a bloodied Marine Corps major calmly phoning in his own crash after ejecting from an F-18 Hornet that slammed into a Washington mountainside, and the whole scene plays out like a man reporting a fender-bender.
Maj. Jackson Simon was conducting low-level training over Rimrock Lake, about 55 miles southeast of Seattle, on June 13 when something went wrong. The Marine Corps F-18 Hornet, an aircraft valued at close to $67 million, struck a wooded mountainside and ignited a fire. Simon punched out before impact, rode his parachute through a canopy of trees, and walked away with facial lacerations and what he described as "some adrenaline going."
The Yakima County Sheriff's Office released the bodycam footage in mid-August, more than two months after the crash. What it captured was not a shaken aviator in shock. It was a Marine officer methodically working through his post-crash checklist while bleeding from the face.
A responding Yakima County deputy found Simon standing on a hillside, already removing his flight harness and stacking his gear in a neat pile. Simon then slid down the embankment to meet the officer, not waiting to be reached. Bodycam footage published by Fox News shows him walking casually toward the deputy with a phone in his hand, blood covering parts of his face.
The deputy performed what the incident report calls a "buddy check" for injuries. Simon cooperated, but his attention was already elsewhere, on reporting the mishap up the chain.
On one call, he kept it clinical:
"Pilot ejected; pilot safe."
On another, he kept it casual:
"Hey, buddy, this is Maj. Simon, I just crashed."
A bystander told Simon he had "hit the trees bad, bud." Simon corrected the framing without missing a beat: "I went through the trees." When the same bystander pointed out he was shaking, Simon offered a one-line explanation, "I have some adrenaline going", and moved on.
The first 911 report hit at 12:18 p.m. local time, roughly eighteen minutes after the Marine Corps placed the crash at approximately noon. Less than a minute later, dispatchers were logging entries reading "JET CRASH" and "PILOT PARACHUTED OUT." Multiple callers phoned in the ejection and fire. At least one witness was crying when she reported what she had seen.
Simon, by contrast, sounded like a man filling out paperwork. When a responder asked him to confirm the aircraft type, "An F-18?", Simon started to answer, caught himself mid-sentence, and self-corrected before continuing. Even rattled, he was editing his own words.
After finishing his calls and speaking with the deputy, Simon offered the closest thing to an emotional reaction captured on the footage:
"Without exaggeration: That's about as close as you come."
The Marine Corps labeled the incident a "non-fatal aviation mishap." The aircraft was assigned to Marine Aircraft Group 11, part of the 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing headquartered at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar in San Diego. A military spokesperson put the jet's value at close to $67 million.
Simon told the deputy he had been "doing some circles over the lake" before the emergency. Beyond that, he offered little about what went wrong: "I tucked in, and I'm not sure exactly. Honestly, I'm a little frazzled." The 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing said it is withholding additional details while the investigation continues and noted that military aviation mishap investigations can take several months to complete.
Later footage showed Simon's parachute draped across the mountainside, tangled in trees. The deputy helped him gather his gear and cut the chute free from the branches.
Whether the fire ignited by the crash was fully contained, what the full scope of Simon's injuries turned out to be beyond the visible lacerations, and what specifically caused a trained pilot to lose a $67 million aircraft during routine training, all of that remains unanswered two months later.
The Marine Corps has not released a timeline for completing its investigation.
A country that produces men who eject from a disintegrating fighter jet, fall through a forest, and calmly phone their commanding officer before the ambulance arrives is a country that still has a few things working exactly right.
