LaMia Flight 2933 crash (Chapecoense air disaster)

A team heading for a final — and a flight that should have been routine

It was supposed to be a high point in a small southern Brazilian club's history. Associação Chapecoense de Futebol, a team from the city of Chapecó, had earned an unlikely place in the final of the Copa Sudamericana. On November 28, 2016, the players, coaches, medical staff, club officials, invited guests and a large contingent of journalists boarded a Bolivian charter bound for Medellín to play Atlético Nacional in the first leg. For many of those on board, it was the culmination of a season of grit and quiet ambition.

The aircraft was an Avro RJ85, registration CP‑2933, operated by LaMia Líneas Aéreas S.A., a small Bolivian charter carrier that ran ad hoc flights across South America. In the hours before departure, choices were made about routing and refuelling—decisions that, at the time, seemed operational and ordinary. Within the next hour they would mean the difference between a game and a catastrophe.

The flight plan that left no room for error

Charter operations often balance cost, schedule and logistics in tight quarters. Investigators later found that the flight departed Santa Cruz de la Sierra without the fuel reserves required for the planned trip to Medellín. The formal finding was precise: the aircraft did not have legally required fuel reserves for the sector plus alternates. Records and communications showed limited margins; the flight plan presented to Colombian authorities reflected those low reserves.

Colleagues who arranged the charter, and the company that provided the aircraft, had options—technical fuel stops could have been planned or requested en route—but operational pressures and choices reduced those margins. Small operators with ad hoc business models sometimes operate at the edge between commercial realities and aviation safety requirements. That edge was exposed harshly on this flight.

The last radio calls: engines fading, priority requested

As the RJ85 crossed into Colombian airspace and began its final descent toward José María Córdova International Airport, controllers were told the aircraft was low on fuel. The crew declared an emergency, sought priority handling, and requested vectors for approach. Shortly afterward the airplane suffered a total loss of the engines as they flamed out from fuel exhaustion. Electrical systems failed; thrust disappeared.

On the hillside at Cerro Gordo, about 17 kilometers southeast of the Medellín airport, the aircraft came down on steep, forested terrain. It broke apart on impact and a post‑impact fire consumed much of the wreckage. The scene that followed was chaotic and heartbreaking: scorched earth, charred fragments of the interior, and the scattered forms of those who had been on board.

On the hillside: rescue, shock, and the toll

Local residents, emergency services and volunteers rushed to the site through difficult mountain roads. They described a noisy, smoky clearing on a misted late afternoon, people moving among burning debris, and teams trying to pull survivors from the wreck. Six people ultimately survived and were taken to hospitals in Medellín; the other 71 on board died. Among the dead were the majority of Chapecoense's first‑team squad, coaching and medical staff, journalists and invited guests, and members of the flight crew.

Survivors were gravely injured. In the days and weeks that followed, hospitals performed life‑saving surgeries. One surviving player sustained injuries that necessitated the amputation of a leg. Families, teammates and fans were left with images that would not fade: the uniforms that would never be worn again, the sudden absence of faces on a team roster, and a stadium of solidarity that had turned to mourning.

A nation and a sport in mourning — and an extraordinary act of sportsmanship

News of the crash spread quickly across South America and then around the world. Football clubs, governing bodies, players and supporters responded with offers of help, donations, and messages of grief. Atlético Nacional, the scheduled opponent in Medellín, made an extraordinary public gesture: they requested that CONMEBOL award the Copa Sudamericana title to Chapecoense. CONMEBOL complied, granting the championship posthumously to the victims and recognizing Atlético Nacional with a fair play award for its gesture.

Solidarity was immediate and practical as well as symbolic. Clubs across Brazil and abroad offered loaned players to Chapecoense, sponsors and federations pledged financial support, and an outpouring of civic and private donations helped the club to survive institutionally. The rituals of remembrance were many — memorials at the club, moments of silence across stadiums, and annual commemorations that kept the names of victims in the public eye.

Who would be held to account — the investigations begin

Colombia’s Aerocivil (the Unidad Administrativa Especial de Aeronáutica Civil) led the formal accident investigation, with participation from Bolivia’s Dirección General de Aeronáutica Civil and other international bodies under standard protocols. Investigators retrieved the aircraft's flight recorders, analyzed air traffic control communications, and examined the operator's manuals, dispatch documents, maintenance records and crew training files.

The technical timeline was stark. The engines flamed out because the aircraft ran out of usable fuel. From there, questions multiplied: why had the aircraft been dispatched with inadequate fuel? Were regulations ignored or misapplied? Was there pressure from company management to omit a planned refuelling stop? Investigators concluded that deficient flight planning and fuel management at the operator level were central contributing factors. They also pointed to systemic issues in oversight of small, on‑demand carriers that operated across national borders.

Criminal and administrative inquiries followed in Bolivia and Colombia. Company officials and flight crew faced allegations ranging from negligence to failure to comply with aviation safety standards. LaMia's operations were suspended; its operating certificate and aircraft registrations were subject to revocation. Legal processes unfolded in multiple jurisdictions over months and years, with charges, indictments and varying rulings that reflected the complexity of assigning criminal responsibility across corporate and national lines.

The wider reckoning: regulations, charter practices, and industry lessons

Aviation regulators and airlines took a hard look at how charters for sports teams and other groups were carried out. The Chapecoense disaster became a case study in the importance of conservative fuel planning, independent operational authority for flight crews, and robust oversight of smaller operators.

Practically, authorities in several countries tightened scrutiny of fuel‑planning practices, verification of alternates and required reserves, and the approval process for ad hoc charters. Federations and clubs reviewed their own travel arrangements, insurance coverage and contingency plans. For many within aviation, the accident served as a harsh reminder that procedural corners cut in peacetime operations can have catastrophic consequences.

The long shadow: rebuilding a club, remembering the lost

Chapecoense survived as an institution through the enormous wave of support it received. Players were loaned and donated, the club reconstituted a squad, and it returned to competition amid continuing grief. Memorials and anniversaries kept the memory of the victims present in the stadiums and in the city of Chapecó; the club and its supporters insisted that the disaster not be reduced to statistics alone.

For the families, teammates and communities affected, legal proceedings and institutional reforms offered some measure of response but could not bring back those who died. The economic and sporting costs were real — the aircraft was destroyed, the club lost playing staff whose value could not be replaced overnight, and the ripple effects touched sponsors, media rights holders and the regional aviation industry.

What the wreckage taught pilots, regulators and teams

The technical finding — fuel exhaustion leading to dual engine flameout — is direct and clear. The causes behind it are layered: operational decisions by LaMia, inadequate fuel planning, and the regulatory environment in which a small operator could conduct long international sectors with limited oversight. Investigators emphasized that pilots must be free from undue commercial or managerial pressure when making safety‑critical decisions such as diverting for fuel, and that charter operators must adhere strictly to dispatch rules and reserve requirements.

In South America and beyond, the accident reinforced already well‑known aviation truths: plan conservatively, verify reserves, accept the operational cost of a technical stop rather than risk flight into fuel starvation, and ensure regulators maintain active oversight—especially of smaller operators who may be tempted to cut margins for profit or schedule.

The unanswered and the enduring

Many of the central facts are settled: the aircraft, CP‑2933, crashed on November 28, 2016, near Cerro Gordo, Antioquia; 71 of the 77 on board died; the crash resulted from fuel exhaustion after deficient fuel planning. Other questions—about the final legal outcomes in various courts, the precise allocation of criminal culpability, and the full scale of financial settlements—have been handled through legal processes in Bolivia and Colombia and, in some cases, have remained matters of evolving record.

What remains constant is the human cost. A football team traveling to play for a title became the center of an international tragedy that reshaped policy for charter flights and left a community with images and losses that do not disappear. The sporting world’s response—most visibly the decision to award the title to Chapecoense and Atlético Nacional’s gesture—showed an unusual cross-border compassion. The regulatory and industry changes that followed sought to make sure future flights carry not only passengers but also the proper margins for safety.

On misted hillsides near Medellín, at memorials in Chapecó, and on the terraces of stadiums everywhere the club played afterwards, the memory of that November afternoon lingers. The wreckage taught its lessons the hardest way possible: through sacrificed lives and a changed course for how charters are planned and governed.