What the Data, the Audio, and the NTSB Aren’t Saying about the Greg Biffle Crash

The tragic crash of Greg Biffle’s Cessna Citation has raised numerous questions, particularly due to the unclear evidence surrounding the incident.

Initially, I intended to wait for the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) preliminary report, anticipated in a few weeks, before discussing the accident.

However, recent developments have compelled me to address the situation sooner.

An audio clip, which has gained traction in aviation circles, has emerged, and its origins remain largely unexplored.

This audio, reportedly recorded during the flight, was undisclosed for several days after the crash, prompting a critical examination of its implications for our understanding of the incident.

Before we delve into the legitimacy of the audio, let’s recap the known facts.

Aviation analyst Juan Brown, along with others, has pointed out that post-crash photographs reveal the right-hand nose baggage door is missing, along with visible damage to the fan blades of the right engine.

This detail is particularly significant, as there is precedent for such an incident.

In 2024, a Citation II departing Barranquilla Airport experienced an open right-hand baggage door shortly after takeoff, leading to engine failure due to items being ingested.

The crew managed to land safely using the remaining engine.

In another incident from 2007, a Citation stalled shortly after takeoff due to distraction caused by an open baggage door, resulting in a tragic outcome.

It is crucial to note that the forward baggage doors on older Citation models lack electronic monitoring, meaning pilots do not receive cockpit alerts if a door is unlatched.

This creates a precarious situation where a single oversight can lead to catastrophic consequences.

The responsibility for ensuring the baggage door is latched falls on the pilot in command, but with three pilots aboard, it complicates accountability.

The NTSB has yet to clarify whether the baggage door was found among the wreckage or is entirely missing.

Their only statement thus far indicates that “all four corners of the aircraft have been accounted for,” which does not imply that every component has been located.

At this stage of the investigation, it is impossible to confirm the presence of major structural failures, as there have been no indications of wing or tail separation or significant loss of flight control.

The aircraft took off from Runway 10 and attempted to return to land on Runway 28 after approximately ten minutes of flight.

Weather conditions were marginally VFR, with broken ceilings around 1,200 feet and visibility near five miles.

The twin-jet crashed about 1,800 feet short of the runway.

The flight departed at 10:05 a.m. EST and crashed around 10:15.

The aircraft, identified as N257BW, was operating under Part 91 regulations.

Although the Citation II typically requires two pilots, there exists a single-pilot exemption.

Reports suggest that the pilot-in-command may not have qualified for this exemption or had only recently obtained it.

This raises concerns about the time available for a single pilot to manage an emergency, run checklists, and prepare for a return landing.

Among the three pilot-rated occupants, only Dennis Dutton, a 67-year-old former Delta Airlines captain, held a Citation type rating.

Public records indicate that Dutton required a qualified second-in-command to operate the aircraft.

His son, Jack Dutton, was also present and held a single-engine private pilot certificate with a recent instrument rating but lacked a multi-engine rating.

Greg Biffle himself had a multi-engine rating, suggesting he may have intended to pilot the Citation, with Dutton serving as the experienced pilot-in-command.

The NTSB has obtained a cockpit voice recorder (CVR) from the aircraft, which, while not required under Part 91, was retained from its previous operation under Part 135.

The NTSB likely has information regarding who was in the pilot seats, but the public must wait for the preliminary report.

It is reasonable to assume that Dennis Dutton occupied the left seat, with Biffle typically in the right.

However, the presence of Jack Dutton, a junior in Auburn University’s Professional Flight program, complicates matters.

It is possible that Jack occupied the second pilot seat, despite lacking the necessary qualifications, which would place the operation outside regulatory compliance.

Now, let’s discuss the purported audio.

Days after the crash, an audio clip surfaced, allegedly capturing transmissions from the flight.

The clip gained credibility when VASAviation published a video featuring it, claiming it was shared by viewers.

However, the absence of a clear chain of custody for this audio raises immediate concerns.

Technical analysis suggests that the audio originated from actual VHF aviation communications, not a studio recreation.

The noise floor, static interaction, and bandwidth align with direct radio capture, as opposed to a recording made by an external device.

Typically, aviation audio available online comes from LiveATC-style networks that retain recordings for several days, and anything as dramatic as this would have circulated widely immediately after the incident.

The lack of such circulation and social media discussion until about a week after the crash raises significant questions.

While major aviation channels have amplified the audio clip, mainstream news outlets have largely overlooked it.

If the audio is a hoax, it is a remarkably sophisticated one, likely requiring an airborne transmitter and a ground-based receiver, which would be beyond the capabilities of most hoaxers.

Therefore, while I do not believe it is fabricated, I remain skeptical of its provenance.

The transcript of the audio itself raises further questions.

The repeated use of the term “issue” without specifying the problem is unusual.

In genuine mayday calls, pilots typically articulate the nature of the failure.

It is conceivable that a pilot might hesitate to disclose an open baggage door, but the phrasing is nonetheless atypical.

Additionally, the line, “we’re getting everything going, we’re getting our gear down,” is not language commonly transmitted over CTAF.

Lowering landing gear is a routine task, and pilots generally do not broadcast it.

This raises the possibility that the audio captures only one side of a two-sided conversation, which is also uncommon.

Despite the absence of the term “mayday,” the tone of the communication suggests an emergency.

Notably, Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger did not use the term during his emergency landing on the Hudson River.

The NTSB later confirmed that a text from an occupant indicated they were making an emergency landing, yet they have not acknowledged the audio from the pilots suggesting the same.

This omission is perplexing.

During a second briefing, NTSB spokesperson Michael Graham was asked about the crew’s declaration of an emergency.

His initial response suggested a lack of awareness of any issues with the aircraft, but he later corrected himself, acknowledging that there was indeed an emergency.

It is possible that Graham had not yet listened to the audio recording during the first briefing, but he likely knew it existed, as he referenced “audio recordings” multiple times.

The audio clearly indicates a declaration of an emergency, albeit implied, making his statement about not being aware of such a declaration problematic.

The voice in the audio sounds young, which raises uncomfortable implications regarding who was speaking and whether the aircraft was operated legally.

However, it may not ultimately matter who occupied the right seat.

Under Part 91, second-in-command requirements are loosely defined, and a pilot may technically qualify without meaningful proficiency.

In a real emergency, an underqualified second-in-command offers little practical assistance.

Turning to the crash data, the situation becomes murky.

FlightRadar24 shows only 24 ADS-B points during the ten-minute flight, with the first 23 covering just 2.5 minutes, followed by a four-minute gap before the final data point, which was recorded roughly 30 seconds before impact.

In contrast, ADS-B Exchange provides a more erratic and complete track, including unfiltered data that FlightRadar24 excludes.

This unfiltered data depicts a climb from 1,800 to 4,000 feet at nearly 4,000 feet per minute, followed by a chaotic descent.

Some speculate that this indicates flight-control issues or a struggle in the cockpit.

However, a more plausible explanation is line-of-sight disruption between the aircraft and ground stations over rolling terrain, leading to erroneous altitude data.

The most reliable information likely comes from the filtered FlightRadar24 data, despite its incompleteness.

It shows the aircraft descending from about 2,000 feet, with airspeed peaking near 187 knots before decreasing.

Even with an engine failure, the combination of reduced airspeed and descent suggests that the pilot had reduced thrust.

If the baggage door had opened, this would make sense, as pilots would want to return to the airport while maintaining low airspeed to avoid further damage.

Some have speculated that the aircraft appeared to be making a tight circle to land back on runway 10, which aligns with the data points.

After descending roughly 300 feet, the aircraft resumed climbing and accelerating simultaneously, climbing 350 feet while increasing speed by 19 knots—indicative of single-engine climb capability for a Citation II.

However, the simultaneous acceleration raises the possibility that both engines were still producing thrust at that point.

Post-crash imagery from the NTSB shows significant foreign-object damage to the right engine fan blades, which will be assessed during the engine teardown to determine whether the damage resulted from tree strikes at impact or from baggage ingestion.

If the baggage door was unsecured, it likely would have opened as the nose pitched up, creating a low-pressure area over the forward fuselage.

Depending on the compartment’s loading, there could have been a delay before any item departed the compartment and was ingested by the right engine—or this scenario may not have occurred at all.

These questions should be resolved in the preliminary report.

Weather conditions were technically VMC, but barely so, with low ceilings, drizzle, and marginal visibility.

The crew was not in contact with ATC, suggesting they were not operating under IFR.

Had they been, controllers would have provided vectors, altitude protection, and an instrument approach.

Instead, the flight path suggests a possible attempt to remain below the clouds, known as scud running, which is a recognized risk factor in Part 91 accidents.

The initial climb and turn appeared normal.

At 2,000 feet, the altitude stabilized, and airspeed decayed, indicating thrust reduction.

The aircraft then descended and slowed for roughly 90 seconds, stabilized briefly near 1,500 feet, continued southwest, and then resumed climbing and accelerating.

After that, the data deteriorated.

Either the aircraft executed a dramatic climb to 4,000 feet, or ADS-B reception was lost due to terrain masking.

I suspect the latter.

The final data point places the aircraft low and abeam the airport on a base leg for Runway 28, just seconds before impact.

Ultimately, this accident does not hinge on a single dramatic failure.

Instead, it revolves around margins—how thin they can become when several small factors align simultaneously.

A baggage door that may or may not have been latched.

A single-pilot exemption that may or may not have applied.

A second seat occupied by someone who may or may not have been legally or practically capable of providing assistance.

Weather that was technically legal but unforgiving.

A jet climbing away from the ground with very little time, altitude, and room for error.

None of these factors alone would be enough to bring down a Citation II, but aviation accidents rarely occur due to a single failure.

They happen when normal operations drift toward the edge until something unexpected demands more than the system or crew can provide.

The audio that surfaced may eventually prove authentic or fade away as an artifact with no verifiable origin.

The ADS-B data may turn out to be noisy, filtered, incomplete, or misleading.

The baggage door may end up being irrelevant.

However, the cockpit voice recorder will not be.

The NTSB already knows who was flying, which pilot occupied which seat, and when the tone in the cockpit shifted from routine to urgent.

When the preliminary report is released, it will either close some doors or open others that many people may not expect.

Until then, the most important lesson here is not about doors, data, or decibels.

It’s about discipline, structure, and the understanding that regulations do not create safety—training and margins do.

When the weather is low, the workload is high, and something goes wrong just after takeoff, there is no room for ambiguity, casual compliance, or an untrained voice in a critical seat.

Aviation is unforgiving of uncertainty, and sometimes, it takes only ten minutes to prove it.