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A Rubik’s Cube, Thick Socks and Giddy

Anticipation: The Last Hours of the Titan
Five voyagers climbed into the Titan submersible in hopes of joining the
select few who have seen the wreck of the Titanic up close. But within
hours, their text messages stopped coming.

The Titan submersible. OceanGate, via Alamy

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By John Branch and Christina Goldbaum

The reporters interviewed dozens of people. Christina Goldbaum reported
from London, with contributions from correspondents in Paris and St.
John’s, Newfoundland.
July 2, 2023 Updated 6:53 p.m. ET

The time Christine Dawood saw her husband, Shahzada, and

last
their son, Suleman, they were specks on the North Atlantic,
bobbing on a floating platform about 400 miles from land. It was
Father’s Day, June 18, and she watched from the support ship as
they climbed into a 22-foot submersible craft called Titan.
Divers closed them inside by tightening a ring of bolts as the craft
rolled on the waves about 13,000 feet above the 111-year-old
wreckage of the Titanic.
Suleman, 19, carried Rubik’s Cube. Shahzada had a Nikon
a
camera, eager to capture the view of the seafloor through Titan’s
single porthole.
“He was like a vibrating toddler,” said Christine, who stayed on the
support ship at the surface with the couple’s daughter, Alina.
The two watched closely. The sun was shining. The ship was
steady.
“It was a good morning,” Christine Dawood said.

Shahzada Dawood, left, and son Suleman. Mr. Dawood’s wife, Christine, said her
husband couldn’t contain his enthusiasm about the trip to the Titanic, saying, “I’m
diving tomorrow! I’m diving tomorrow!”

Paul-Henri Nargeolet, Stockton Rush and Hamish Harding. Rush was the founder and
CEO of OceanGate and the pilot of the Titan.

Soon, the Titan slinked into the water and dropped into the deep,
descending toward a dream.
Later that morning, Ms. Dawood overheard someone saying that
communication with Titan had been lost. The United States Coast
Guard confirmed that it had happened 1 hour 45 minutes into the
dive.
Ms. Dawood went to the bridge, where a team had been monitoring
Titan’s slow descent. She was assured that the only communication
between the capsule and the ship, through coded computer text
messages, was often spotty. If the break lasted more than an hour,
the dive would be aborted. Titan would drop weights and come
back to the surface.
For hours, Ms. Dawood slowly drowned in dread. By late
afternoon, she said, someone told her that they did not know where
Titan and its crew were.
“Iwas also looking out on the ocean, in case I could maybe see
them surfacing,” she said.
Four days later, with Ms. Dawood and the crew of the support ship
still over the site of the Titanic, Coast Guard officials announced
that they had found debris from the Titan.
They said it had most likely imploded, instantly killing everyone on
board.

Debris from the Titan submersible was recovered from the ocean floor near the wreck of the Titanic in the
North Atlantic and returned to St. John’s, Newfoundland. Paul Daly/The Canadian Press, via Associated Press

Besides the Dawoods, there was Paul-Henri Nargeolet, 77, a French

scientist and a global authority on the Titanic, trying to make his
38th dive to the wreckage. There was Hamish Harding, 58, a
British airline executive, thrilled to be making his first.

And there was Stockton Rush, the 61-year-old founder and chief
executive of OceanGate, which saw itself as a hybrid of science and
tourism. The company declined interview requests from The New
York Times.
Mr. Rush was at the controls. He wanted be known as an
to
innovator, someone remembered for the rules he broke.

‘He Had This Face’ Big Glow on His

In February, Stockton Rush and his wife, Wendy, flew to London
and met with the Dawoods at a cafe near Waterloo station.
They spoke about the design and safety of the submersible and
what it was like to go down in it.
“That engineering side, we just had no idea,” Ms. Dawood said in
an interview. “I mean, you sit in a plane without knowing how the
engine works.”
Shahzada Dawood was a 48-year-old British-Pakistani
businessman from one of the wealthiest families in Pakistan. He
was vice chairman of Engro Corporation, a business conglomerate
headquartered in the port city of Karachi that is involved in
agriculture, energy and telecommunications.
The Dawoods became fascinated with the Titanic after visiting an
exhibition in Singapore in 2012, the 100th anniversary of the ship’s
sinking. Some items on display likely had been lifted to the surface
by Mr. Nargeolet, they had recently come to realize.
In 2019, the family visited Greenland and was intrigued by the
glaciers that sheathed into icebergs. Ms. Dawood spotted an
OceanGate ad, offering trips to the Titanic. The family was sold —
especially Shahzada and Suleman. But the boy was too young to go
on the dive; OceanGate required passengers to be 18, so Christine
planned to accompany her husband.
The pandemic delayed all plans. Suleman was now old enough.
And OceanGate waived a rule to allow the 17-year-old Alina aboard
the support ship. The family wanted to experience the dive
together. And Mr. Rush wanted them to be there.
Analogues to OceanGate can be found in literature, film and
sometimes in real life: A pioneering scientist (or a mysterious
madman, to some) offers a rare or costly glimpse of his discovery
to a select few outsiders unable to resist their own curiosity.

Equipment at the OceanGate headquarters in the Port of Everett boatyard in Washington. Grant Hindsley
for The New York Times

These were not dinosaurs of Jurassic Park or the confections of

the
Willy Wonka. This was the opportunity to see, firsthand, through a
21-inch porthole, the world’s most famous shipwreck at the bottom
of the sea.
The cost was not a golden ticket, but $250,000, though that
advertised rack rate proved negotiable.
Mr. Rush considered himself more a scientist than a salesman, but
much of his effort was in the marketing of his company and the
selling of spots on the submersible. He wanted a mix of clients who
offered validation and buzz. Potential customers dealt directly with
him.
Alan Stern, planetary scientist from Colorado, inquired about
a a
Titan dive last July. After Mr. Rush learned of Mr. Stern’s
background — jet pilot, polar exploration, leader of NASA’s New
Horizon exploration Pluto and the Kuiper belt of — he offered a
free ticket. Stern accepted.
“Stockton said, don’t care if you give a talk — do you want to be
‘I
the co-pilot?’” he recalled. “‘We’ll get you trained. Get yourself to
St. John’s.’ And that’s what I ended up doing.’”

Mr. Nargeolet, who went by P.H., had become a semi-permanent

fixture, a quasi-member of Titanic royalty, a star and co-pilot on the
OceanGate expeditions.
He spent years diving to the Titanic and collecting items for
museums and exhibitions. He planned to be in Paris on July 18 for
the opening of an exhibition about the Titanic.
“Allmy existence revolves around it,”he wrote in his 2022 book,
“Dans les Profondeurs du Titanic” (“In the Depths of the Titanic”).
On the last expedition, Mr. Nargeolet gave a presentation about his
37 previous dives to the Titanic. He also told the group a story
about how he had once been “stuck down there for three days and
the sub was out of communication,” Ms. Dawood recalled.
After the lecture, her husband grinned at her.

The Dawoodfamily became fascinated with the Titanic when they saw an exhibit of artifacts from the ship
in life on the Titanic at that point before it sank,” Christine Dawood
2012. “You basically saw
said. OceanGate, via Alamy

“Oh, my god, this so cool,” Ms. Dawood recalled him saying. “He
is
was lapping everything up. He had this big glow on his face talking
about all this nerdy stuff.”

And came, these wealthy tourists and curious scientists,

so they
sold on the promise of a rare adventure provided by a company
that considered itself “SpaceX for the ocean .”
OceanGate spoke space travel: There was
in the language of
“command central,” a “mission director,” the “launch and recovery
platform (LARS)” and a “countdown to launch.”
The paying passengers were called “mission specialists,” and the
company requested that they not be referred to as “customers” or
tourists” — or “passengers.” They were given shirts and jackets
embroidered with their names and the flags of their countries. A
patch on the sleeve read, “Titanic Survey Exploration Crew.”
“Deep water diving pocket submarine is the only extreme in a
activity accessible to anyone in good health, without training and
regardless of age,” Mr. Nargeolet wrote in his book.
A real-estate investor from Las Vegas named Jay Bloom wanted to
go on Titan with his 20-year-old son, Sean, this year. After some
back and forth, Mr. Rush in April offered the “last minute price” of
$150,000 each — discounting each ticket by $100,000. The Blooms
declined, Mr. Bloom told The Times, because of scheduling issues
and safety concerns.
OceanGate’s plan since 2021 was run a series of eight- or nine- to
ay expeditions in the late spring and early summer: about two
days to the Titanic site, five days over it, two days back. Each
expedition might have several dives — but just one for each client
— depending on demand, technical difficulties and weather
conditions.
The final trip was Mission V. None of the first four this year got
close to the Titanic, largely because of rough weather in May and
early June.
“I am proud joined @oceangateexped for
to finally announce that I

their RMS TITANIC Mission as a mission specialist on the sub

going down to the Titanic,” Harding posted on his Facebook and
Instagram pages the afternoon before the dive.
Harding, 58, was the chairman of Action Aviation, a sales and air
operations company based in Dubai. He had previously flown to
space with Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin rocket company.

The Titan floating on a raft before it began its descent toward the Titanic on June 18. Action Aviation, via
Associated Press

Mr. Harding posted four photographs, including an image of the

submersible and another one of a small white flag on which
members of the expedition had signed their names in black marker.
Another photo was one of Mr. Harding, sitting with his legs
crossed, smiling. He had thinning, reddish hair. He wore a black-
nd-green all-weather jacket unzipped over a rugby-style shirt,
bluejeans, NASA-themed socks and running shoes.
In the posts, Mr. Harding detailed weather challenges but reported
that the group was preparing to descend the following morning
around 4.
“Until then we have a lot of preparations and briefings to do,” he
wrote. “More expedition updates to follow IF the weather holds!”
It was his last post.

Rocking the Boat

The OceanGate promotional video nearly six minutes of stirring ,

music and wide smiles, displays the balance that the company tried
to cultivate.
“Get ready for what Jules Verne could only imagine,” the baritone
voice-over says. “This is not a thrill ride for tourists — it’s much
more.”
The whole enterprise made some experts queasy, including at least
one former employee Within circles of submersible experts, there .

were criticisms of the cylindrical design (most deepwater

submersibles are spherical); the relatively large porthole (seven
inches thick and made of Plexiglas, according to Mr. Rush); and
the use of mixed materials, such as carbon fiber and titanium, that
might not bond well or withstand the immense pressure of a deep-
dive.
In 2018, Will Marine Technology Society’s
Kohnen, chair of the
manned underwater vehicles committee, drafted a letter to Mr.
Rush, saying that OceanGate’s “experimental” approach could lead
to “catastrophic” consequences It was signed by dozens of experts. .

The next year, a submersible expert heard cracking sounds during

a Titan dive in the Bahamas and, in an email to Mr. Rush, begged
him to suspend operations. Mr. Rush made some revisions but kept
taking customers.
Bill Price, retired from running a family travel business in
California, went on a Titan dive in 2021. During the descent, Mr.
Rush realized that Titan had lost its propulsion system on one side.
He aborted the trip, Mr. Price said.

Skeptics had raised questions about the Titan’s shape, its large porthole and the strength of the materials it
was built with. OceanGate, via Getty Images

But he could not get what he called the “drop-weight mechanism”

to release ballast for the ascent, as designed, Mr. Price said. (In a
video interview with Alan Estrada, a Mexican social media
influencer, Mr. Rush explained the ballast system, which included
six 24-inch sewer pipes that weighed 37 pounds, “and we dump
that pipe, one by one.”)
Mr. Rush calmly explained that the weights were loaded from the
top with no stopper — so if they could rock the submersible
enough, they would drop off.

Everyone lined up in a row, rushed to one side, then the other, back
and forth, to tip the Titan and dislodge the ballast, the way
someone might rock a vending machine to free a candy bar stuck
on a spindle.
“After several rolls, we got momentum going,” Mr. Price said.
“Then, we heard a clunk, and we all collectively knew one had
dropped off. So we continued to do that, until the weights were all
out.”

None prevented Titan from making a dive the next day, with
of this
Mr. Price aboard. They saw the Titanic and celebrated at the
surface with sparkling cider.
“The we went through that, we experienced some worst-
fact that
ase scenarios, and we overcame it, my thinking was, ‘We can do
this,’” Mr. Price said.
The OceanGate pitch, without any guarantees, was that Titan
would take about two and a half hours to drop to the Titanic and
about two and a half hours to ascend back to the surface. In
between would be about four hours of touring the wreckage.
Most of the trips did not end with up-close views of the Titanic.
More Titan missions were aborted than accomplished.
Yet Mr. Rush had a way of instilling confidence in passengers with
good-natured transparency, even as issues arose. After a planned
test dive was scrubbed a few weeks ago because a balky computer
connection had made the Titan hard to control, Mr. Rush gathered
everyone for a debriefing.
“To put it bluntly, that’s why I called it — mostly because we’ve got
to find out what this control problem is,” he said in a conversation
captured by a YouTuber who was on the expedition “That’s sort of .

important, controlling the sub.”

Inside the Titan on an earlier trip. OceanGate, via Alamy

Mr. Stern, the planetary scientist with a background in aeronautics,

said that he had not known about some of the concerns that had
come to light since the accident, like the letter from the
submersible experts.
He returned safely from the expedition, impressed by the
protocols.
“I fullyrecognized that implosion could be the way that our dive
ended,” Mr. Stern said. “My own estimation was that Titan had
dived dozens of times — not all of them to the Titanic — and for me,
that was an empirical indication that they were running a pretty
reliable, safe operation.”
Mr. Price recalled the analogies he had heard usedsome of
onboard to explain what it would be like to be crushed by extreme
pressure in the deep ocean. One was that of a Coke can smashed
with a sledgehammer. Another was an elephant standing on one
foot, with 100 more elephants on top of it.

Death would be instantaneous.

“In a macabre way,” Mr. Price said, “it was reassuring.”

On the Polar Prince

All of theexpeditions began in St. John’s, Newfoundland, on the
eastern edge of the North American continent, tucked deep into the
claw of a narrow harbor.
The Dawoods Toronto on June 14. A canceled flight to St.
flew to
John’s gave them time to explore the city, but when the next day’s
flight was delayed, they feared they would miss the Titanic trip
completely.
“We were actually quite worried, like, oh my god, what if they
cancel that flight as well?” Ms. Dawood said. “In hindsight,
obviously, I wish they did.”
They arrived middle of the night and went straight to the
in the
Polar Prince, a former Canadian Coast Guard icebreaker and buoy
tender that was built in 1959 and used by OceanGate this year.
It had a deep-blue hull and a crew of 17. It also housed and ferried
about two dozen OceanGate divers and staff members, plus a
revolving set of clients. This spring, it was seen going in and out of
the harbor towing a floating platform, about 20 feet square, on
which the 20,000-pound Titan submersible rode.
The Dawoods found
the cabins tight. The husband and wife slept in
bunk beds, she on top. The kids each got their own cabin. Meals
were eaten together, everyone on the ship, in the galley, buffet-style
and on trays.

Aboard the Polar Prince, the support vessel for the Titan submersible, paying customers attended safety
meetings and informational lectures. Ian Austen/The New York Times

There were all-hands meeting every day at 7 a.m., and again at 7

p.m., lasting an hour or more. What did we learn, what are we
going to do, what do we need to think about?
Among the safety procedures were what Mr. Rush called
“stopskis.” They were five-minute pauses to break the momentum
of the mission at key points and let people ponder and voice
concerns.
Part ofwas to keep the paying customers — the
the idea
“explorers, adventurers, and citizen scientists” — from being
passive participants.
“Mission Specialists receive training in a variety of roles such as
submersible navigation and piloting, tracking and communications,
and submersible maintenance and operations,” the OceanGate
brochure read. “They make one submersible dive and assist on the
surface when other teams dive.”
At night, there was usually a presentation from Mr. Rush, Mr.
Nargeolet or one of the other scientists, including the clients that
Rush had brought aboard, from archaeologists to astronauts.
People sat on the floor or on couches to listen. Sometimes they
watched “Titanic.”

Into the Deep

The divers had was Sunday, June 18.
to be on deck by 5 a.m. It

The briefing discussed the plan and responsibilities. The mood was
serious. The ship was buzzing. Divers and the submersible crew
made last-minute preparations in the water.
“It was like a well-oiled operation — you could see they had done
this before many times,” Ms. Dawood said.
By then, the three first-time divers had been told what to expect
and how to prepare for the expected 12-hour trip.
Mr. Rush always recommended a “low-residue diet” the day before
a dive, and no coffee the morning of one. Relieving yourself over
the planned 12 hours meant steady aim into a bottle or a camp-
toilet behind a curtain.

Wear thick socks and bring a beanie because it will get chillier the
deeper we go. Try not to get your feet wet from the condensation
that pools on the floor.

After the Titan lost communication with the Polar Prince, vessels set out in search. Chris Donovan for The
New York Times

Don’t expect see anything through the porthole or the exterior

to
cameras on the way down because the floodlights will be turned off
to save battery power for the epic tour on the ocean floor — though
there was a chance to catch glimpses of bioluminescent creatures,
creating a sensation like falling through stars.
The dim lights inside were kept off for the same reason. The only
glow would come from computer screens and light-up pens used to
track the descent on paper.
And, Mr. Rush would ask, please load some of your favorite songs
into your phone to share with others to play on a Bluetooth
speaker. But please, he would add: No country music.
The divers of June 18 were told to be ready to board by 7:30.
Suleman and Shahzada had their OceanGate flight suits as well as
waterproof trousers, an orange waterproof jacket, steel-toed boots,
life vests and helmets.

They stopped to be weighed, as required.

“I’m looking quite fat,” Ms. Dawood recalled her husband’s saying.
“I’m boiling up already.”
Suleman went down the stairs to get into the motorized raft that
would shuttle the passengers to the floating platform on which
Titan was tied. Shahzada was less graceful.
“He needed an extra hand to go down the stairs in all this gear
because the boots were very clunky,” she said. “And Alina and I
were like, ‘Oh, God, I hope that he doesn’t fall into the water.”
The divers were specks out on the platform. Soon, they
disappeared into the Titan.
Getting into the submersible was a bit like crawling through the
back hatch of an S.U.V. with no seats. There was a rubber mat on
the floor and two handles on the ceiling to hang onto.
Rush, the pilot, usually sat at the back, away from the porthole.
Others sat with their backs to the curved walls. Past passengers
had sometimes sat on a padded seat cushion like those you might
bring to a stadium.

Mourners left flowers at the Port of St. John’s. Jordan Pettitt/PA Images, via Getty Images

Divers closed the hatch. Someone with a ratchet tightened all the
bolts.
Eventually, crews maneuvered the Titan underwater and released
it from the platform.

The Titan typically descended at about 25 meters per minute, or

roughly one mile per hour. It was slow enough that there was no
sense of motion.
Inside, the glow daylight overhead would have slowly dimmed.
of
Within a few minutes, Titan would be absorbed in darkness, and
the porthole would be a ring of black.
Anna Betts , Catherine Porter, Rebecca Ruiz, Ian Austen, Mike Baker, Nicholas Bogel-
and William Broad contributed reporting.
Kitty Bennett and Susan Beachy contributed research.

John Branch sports reporter. He won the 2013 Pulitzer Prize for feature writing for
is a
“Snow story about a deadly avalanche in Washington State, and is the author of
Fall,” a
three books, including “Sidecountry,” a collection of New York Times stories, in 2021.
@ JohnBranchNYT
Christina Goldbaum is a correspondent in the Kabul, Afghanistan, bureau.
@ cegoldbaum
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