The Biggest Revelations From Netflix's 'Titan: The OceanGate Disaster'
It was billed as a once-in-a-lifetime adventure: a deep-sea dive to the Titanic shipwreck 12,500 feet (3,800 meters) below sea level aboard a sleek, experimental sub made out of carbon fiber—a material never used prior for submersibles. CBS's David Pogue, who went on a dive with OceanGate in July 2022, said he was told that the company boasted to have a robust safety culture with a 'rule of three,' in that if even three 'little things' went wrong, missions would be scrapped.
But what unfolded was a slow-moving disaster years in the making. As OceanGate's former engineering director Tony Nissen says in Netflix's new documentary Titan: The OceanGate Disaster, it wasn't 'that we didn't follow a set of regulations' that led to the imposition, but that it was the company 'culture.' That might sound like a startling admission, but it's only one of many revelations being shared by former OceanGate employees in this documentary among others amid the ongoing investigation by the U.S. Coast Guard and other governing bodies.
Here's an overview of some of the most important things viewers learned in the Netflix documentary about the Titan, OceanGate, and its founder, the late Stockton Rush.
For a ship to be classed means it has been reviewed and certified by an independent maritime classification society to meet established structural and safety standards. This process ensures the vessel's design, construction, and maintenance adhere to international guidelines for seaworthiness.
After the first hull on Titan was completed, Rob McCallum, founding partner and operator of EYOS Expeditions, says in the documentary that Rush told the crew in 2018 while at lunch near the company's headquarters that he saw no need for classification or third-party oversight. (McCallum was consulting given his experience on deep sea tours.) McCallum says he stood up and resigned on the spot. 'I said, 'I'm sorry I can't be a part of this conversation, nor can I be associated with OceanGate or this vehicle in any way,' and I left,' McCallum says. 'He had every contact in the submersible industry telling him not to do this.'
In 2016, an OceanGate submersible piloted by Rush became stuck beneath the wreck of the Andrea Doria off the coast of Massachusetts. Despite warnings from OceanGate's then-director of marine operations, David Lochridge, about the dangers of approaching the deteriorating site, Rush moved too close and wedged the Cyclops 1, another one of the company's submersibles, into the bow. Accounts vary on what happened next. Some reports claim Rush panicked and threw the controller at Lochridge to take over. The documentary includes the most footage ever shown of the incident: Rush, indeed, looks flustered. Lochridge very clearly and calmly is able to regain control of the sub and steer it back to the surface. That said, it still cannot be confirmed if the controller was thrown or not, as camera angles inside the sub are limited due to its size.
After the 'classed' incident, Rush assigned Lochridge to write a safety report on the Titan. Lochridge raised concerns about the carbon fiber hull and the lack of non-destructive testing. He was then summoned to a meeting the following day with Stockton, finance and administration director Bonnie Carl, quality assurance director Scott Griffith, and Nissen. Curiously, the meeting was recorded, and the audio playback was shared in the documentary. Lochridge was fired, and bizarrely, Rush tried to replace him with Carl, positioning her as the company's first female pilot, even though Carl herself points out she was an accountant. She says in the documentary she knew 'at that moment, she couldn't work at the company anymore' and decided to leave.
Lochridge filed a whistleblower complaint with OSHA, alleging retaliation under the Seaman's Protection Act. OceanGate responded with a lawsuit, accusing him of breaching a non-disclosure agreement and misusing proprietary information. Lochridge countersued, claiming wrongful termination for raising safety concerns. He later said the legal battle became too draining for him and his wife to continue. At a U.S. Coast Guard hearing, he removed his glasses to wipe his eyes while describing the ordeal.
At the end of the 2022 diving season, OceanGate left the Titan on an exposed dock in St. John's, Newfoundland for the winter—without shelter, garage, or even a tarp beyond a small blue one for the porthole. Nissen said he warned Rush the sub could not withstand sub-zero temperatures or the carbon fiber would begin to fracture. In the documentary interviews as well as testimony in front of the U.S. Coast Guard investigative panel, former employees said the company didn't have the budget to ship the sub back to Washington. No explanation was offered for why even a rental garage or temporary cover couldn't be provided.
The Netflix documentary highlights that several missions were attempted beforehand in June 2023, including one featuring YouTuber Scuba Jake. On that second-to-last dive, the sub briefly submerged before losing communications and aborting the mission after just a few feet under water. Jake has since shared his experience both in the documentary and to his social media accounts, but he noted on his Instagram page that he took several months away for his mental health after the implosion.
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San Francisco Chronicle
6 hours ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
Can a new art space succeed in San Francisco's struggling Tenderloin?
TnT Art Lab isn't officially open, but people walking by its future location on Turk and Taylor streets in the Serif building are already curious. Video installations, paintings and textile works are already on view in the unfinished space that often draws passersby to peer inside. Bradley McCallum, founder of the project through his 36-year-old nonprofit Conjunction Arts, usually invites them inside. 'Our goal is to really activate the corner with regular viewing hours and events,' said McCallum, a multimedia artist whose work is rooted in social practices and activism. McCallum envisions TnT as a hub that will bring social art to the Tenderloin, a genre focused on making work that emphasizes collaboration, community building and human impact. In social art practice, creativity is viewed as a catalyst for positive change and collective transformation. To that end, McCallum's plans include an international artists residency, exhibitions, a dialogue series and other community programming. The 2,000 square foot space is already framed out for different areas, with studio space, a media library and a flexible gallery all key to the overall mission of TnT Art Lab. McCallum also knew it was important to build a kitchen. 'One way we come together as a community is through food, and being able to gather for a cup of tea or for a glass of wine,' said McCallum. 'This is about standing beside people and not in front of them, joining a community and joining the table.' 'The idea is that TnT can be this open, porous space and exist as part of that larger arts network too,' said Natasha Becker, McCallum's wife and a member of Conjunction Art's Board of Directors. 'It's an amazing opportunity to be one of the nodes in this already rich network.' McCallum and Becker relocated from New York after she accepted a position at the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco as its first-ever curator of African art. He recalls driving from his studio at the Minnesota Street Project through the neighborhood in the evenings during a bleak moment of the city's pandemic recovery. 'Bearing witness to some of the most visible and difficult challenges of homelessness, drug addiction and poverty on Sixth Street left a lasting impression,' said McCallum. 'Here was an opportunity, adjacent to some of the most difficult challenges, to invite artists to come in and look more deeply at these problems instead of turning a blind eye.' McCallum learned the space was available in the fall of 2024 through gallerist Jonathan Carver Moore. His eponymous gallery, on the Market Street side of the Serif, has helped bring new life to the building since opening in March 2023, with shows that often spotlight LGBTQ+, female and Black artists. In January, McCallum began fundraising with a dinner in the space during San Francisco Art Week. He later hosted a closing party in May for TnT's benefit auction, which featured works by local artists including McCallum, Arleene Correa Valencia, Michele Pred and Reniel Del Rosario as well as Nigerian textile artist Daàpo Reo, Lebanese painter Hiba Kalache and South African photo artist Zanele Muholi (who is on the organization's advisory committee). The auction raised $108,600, with $50,000 dedicated to building out TnT's space and the remainder shared with the artists. At a time when institutional and government financial support for the arts is grinding to a halt, McCallum has mostly sought private donors — though TnT has received an SF Shines grant for $10,000 and a grant from the Mid-Market Alliance for $5,000 for their graphic window display. (He notes TnT Art Lab's website donation page is open.) Joy Ou, president and CEO of the Serif's developer Group I, said she has long believed in the Tenderloin's potential for the arts. She recently sold the neighboring Warfield Building for $7.3 million to the Community Arts Stabilization Trust and KALW Public Media. Plans for the nine-story building center around Warfield Commons, a hub for media, journalism and literature. KALW will occupy two floors, while the CAST will manage the property and occupy one floor. For all its challenges, arts in the Tenderloin have been on an upswing in recent years. In 2023, experimental art and performance space Counterpulse completed a $7 million fundraising campaign and entered into a partnership with CAST, enabling the nonprofit to buy its longtime building at 80 Turk St. The Tenderloin is also part of the Compton's Transgender Cultural District, which was established in 2017 to recognize the historic trans and queer population in the neighborhood. 'It feels like a very exciting time for the neighborhood, and for arts in the neighborhood,' said McCallum. 'There is a synergy that can be created between all these things.' When plans with the Magic Theatre to take over the space at 67 Turk St. as part of the building's community benefits package fell through, Ou said she began looking for an organization that would bring steady foot traffic. 'I told Brad, it's a 24/7 activation that's needed here,' said Ou. 'It needs that social justice type, like him.' Ou, a board member at the Museum of Craft and Design in Dogpatch and advisor for the Luggage Store Gallery on Sixth and Market, said she was familiar with McCallum's 2024 painting series 'Inescapable Truths: James Foley's Indelible Legacy,' which transformed video of the late journalist murdered by ISIS in 2014 into paintings with augmented reality components. That work, she said, confirmed for her that TnT was a fit for the building. 'For anybody who takes this on, they have to believe in the arts,' Ou stressed. 'You have to be a strong artist and you have to understand how this community works.' Ou has promised McCallum a 10-year, rent-free lease on the space if he can raise the $175,000 needed to complete the buildout. But she didn't just work with McCallum on favorable lease terms, she made a $25,000 donation to TnT from her personal foundation and joined the organization's advisory committee. So far, McCallum has raised $125,000 toward completing the space and is seeking an additional $350,000 for the first year's programming. He hopes to open TnT with a show featuring Bay Area artist Hector Zamora and Muholi this fall. 'We are trying to revitalize downtown, including Mid-Market,' said Ou. 'And how do we do that? It's by bringing art.'
Los Angeles Times
2 days ago
- Los Angeles Times
After my marriage fell apart, darkness got to me. Then I was catfished
'You don't revere me anymore.' The words rolled off my tongue at my husband, who had been acting strangely for a few days. 'Revere?' he said with such distaste that it stunned me. Then I did what any wife married for 23 years might do: I read his emails. I wanted the truth. 'All she does is spend money!' screamed up at me from the computer screen. I wasn't in love with my husband anymore. I did still love him and had planned to sacrifice my happiness to make sure he was taken care of until the end. Then he betrayed me and let me off the hook. He didn't cheat. He talked behind my back in ways that I felt dishonored me. Imagine reading your husband's emails (I'm not perfect) and finding long conversations between him and his daughter about you. This from the man you've been with for 25 years! I suppose I knew this day would come. Money was always the bane of our relationship. My husband would not have initiated divorce because it would have cost him too much. Did I spend? Yes, I suppose, but only to improve our home in Culver City, give us a luscious yard and a new paved driveway. And that's not to mention all the trips we took to fascinating places. I had done a lot for him. Surprised him with a bar mitzvah in Jerusalem, brought his 'mathematical art' to life through art shows and social media and planned our busy social schedule. I moved to the Pico-Robertson area to be close to my niece and her three kids. Darkness consumed me, but my face was masked with perpetual smiles. How do you begin again at 71? Friends tried to guide me to dating sites, but I wasn't ready. I took refuge in my apartment with my dog, Murray, who kept me alive through the COVID-19 pandemic, depression and divorce. My life consisted of walking the dog, writing children's books and binge-watching Netflix nightly. Once the divorce was over, loneliness won out. I moved to a new city an hour outside of L.A. Male attention came from a 31-year-old gardener who brought me flowers every Tuesday. 'I'm old enough to be your grandmother,' I said. I was feeling the need for male energy, but not with this young man. So I turned to online dating. I scrolled down the list of all my likes on a dating site. One man caught my eye. He was Jewish, intelligent and had a dog named Erik. I sent him a like back. 'Can you give me your number so we can text?' he asked. What could it hurt? The next two weeks were a whirlwind. We were in a textationship. I felt so high I stopped eating. I lost six pounds in three days. Jay enchanted me with all the romantic things that he was going to do for me. He sent me love songs. I wasn't just beautiful; I was extremely beautiful and I shouldn't worry about being overweight, he told me. He wanted a soulmate and convinced me that we were meant to be. Blown away by our connection, we both realized bashert (or fate) had won out. I was the happiest I had been in many years. Finally something was going to come easy for me. But I wasn't naive. Red flags started to pop up. Jay and I had barely spoken on the phone when he told me that he had to be in Washington, D.C. for three weeks to work on a military base. He wouldn't be able to video chat, and if he did, he could get fired. On a Friday morning, two weeks into our relationship, I texted, 'I'm sorry, but I can't invest anymore into this relationship until I see you.' He asked if I could Skype. (Oh, remember Skype?) Red flag. Why not FaceTime? I waited all day Saturday for him to call. Nothing. On Sunday morning, I blocked him on my phone. Murray and I headed to the ocean. On Monday, unable to text me, he emailed. Hope reared its head again. 'How can you give up all we shared together?' he asked. 'I so want you to be true, Jay, but I still need to see your face,' I replied. At 7 a.m. Monday, he called. In bed with no makeup on, we met on Google Meet. I loved the face on his profile, but I didn't think this face was the same one I saw on-screen. I asked him why he said he was a New York native on his profile when I knew he grew up in Sweden. He shrugged it off as a small embellishment. I fake smiled and asked him to say something to me in Swedish. He mumbled something that meant 'bright day.' My intuition was on fire. The guy had to be a liar. Was he grooming me to ask for money? Was he trying to feel important? Did he want to inflict harm? Later that day, he sent me an email. 'I told you I couldn't talk on video and that I'd be home soon enough, and we could be together. Now, they've found out that I made a video call and I could get fired. I'm not sure this was worth it. I'm angry you didn't believe me.' (He allegedly did secret work as an engineer for the Department of Defense.) I texted back: 'Goodbye, Jay.' 'Wow, goodbye,' he answered. I could've gone back into depression, but I was already out. I felt empowered. Catfished or not, I have to thank Jay — or whatever his name really is. He put the pep back in my step even if he didn't mean a word of it. Through the ping-pong of our conversations, my darkness ceased to be. I realized that I was capable of feeling again. Whatever it was that we meant to each other, Mr. Catfish managed to give me the very thing I was missing: Hope. The author is an actor, writer and producer living in Southern California with her dog Murray. L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@ You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Cosmopolitan
2 days ago
- Cosmopolitan
Grenfell Tower now: finally, after eight years the government has announced new plans for the site
Eight years after a tragic fire broke out claiming the lives of 72 people, Grenfell Tower still stands in North Kensington, the fire-damaged building is as a stark reminder of the 72 people who were killed in the blaze eight years ago. Now, a new Netflix documentary has gone into granular detail about the fire, with Grenfell: Uncovered looking into the factors that led to the fateful event on 14 June. It took 60 hours for the fire to be fully extinguished. While the main building itself is made of concrete, the building's exterior was clad in aluminium composite material (ACM) with polyethylene (PE) at its core. PE is highly flammable, which led to the quick spread of the fire. The building is now badly damaged, with a 2020 report saying some of the disrepair to the upper levels of the tower had been exacerbated by the weather conditions. In 2018, in the run-up to the first anniversary, the top few floors of the tower had a sign added; a large green heart, which has come to be representative of Grenfell, as well as the statement: Grenfell: Forever in Our Hearts However, the government has since announced new plans for the tower block – which have not necessarily been warmly received by survivors or by those who lost loved ones in the fire. Cosmopolitan UK speaks to Jackie and Bernie Bernard, who lost their brother Ray to the Grenfell fire, as well as Grenfell: Uncovered documentary maker Olaide Sadiq, about future plans for Grenfell. In February this year, Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner confirmed plans to demolish Grenfell Tower. In a statement, the government said they had consulted independent expert advice, with engineers advising 'it is not practicable to retain many of the floors of the building in place as part of a memorial that must last in perpetuity'. Because of this, the Deputy Prime Minister has concluded ' that it would not be fair to keep some floors of the building that are significant to some families, whilst not being able to do so for others'. It will now take two years for the tower to be deconstructed, with the government saying this will be done in a 'careful and sensitive way'. However, this has not been welcomed by everyone in the community. Speaking to Cosmopolitan UK, Bernie explained: 'Personally, I think it's an insult. 'I think everybody understands the tower has to come down, but it doesn't have to come down to ground level. 'I'm saying is at least keep the main reception intact so that we have a place where we can go to grieve the people that were cremated in that building. The plans aren't something the bereaved have welcomed.' Olaide Sadiq, who attended the most recent Grenfell memorial earlier this month, agreed the mood was sombre amongst those who are part of the community. 'I think there was a there was a large shock within the community when they decided that's what they were doing with the tower,' she tells Cosmopolitan UK. 'While making the documentary, a lot of our contributors told us they go to the tower regularly. It's a second grave site for them for when they want to pay their respects to people they've lost. 'There's an understanding that perhaps the building can't remain 24 storeys high, but when the tower is brought down to ground level, it's gone – and if it's out of sight, it's out of mind.' A report by the Grenfell Tower Memorial Commission said construction of a permanent memorial to those affected by the Grenfell fire could begin as early as 2026. The commission, which is comprised of of representatives of the bereaved, survivors, local residents as well as two independent co-chairs, was created in order to ensure the community was at the heart of decisions on the long-term future of the site. Plans are thought to include a garden, monument and space for grieving. The commission said: "Everyone agrees that if Grenfell Tower comes down, it should be dismantled with care and respect, and in a way that honours our loved ones who were taken from us." Kimberley Bond is a Multiplatform Writer for Harper's Bazaar, focusing on the arts, culture, careers and lifestyle. She previously worked as a Features Writer for Cosmopolitan UK, and has bylines at The Telegraph, The Independent and British Vogue among countless others.
