‘Oh my God, I heard there was a plane crash. Where are you?’
New book reveals heartbreaking details of Roy Halladay’s final flight,
Todd Zolecki is the Philadelphia Phillies beat reporter f or MLB.com. In this Canadian exclusive excerpt from his book “Doc: The Life of Roy Halladay” Zolecki details the tragic day the former Blue Jays ace died in a plane crash: The Halladays woke up on Tuesday, November 7, 2017, like any other school day. The boys got ready and Roy drove them to school. Roy and Brandy would return to Ryan’s school in the afternoon to see him play at a band recital. Brandy needed to run errands beforehand with her mother. She asked Roy if he wanted to join her. They could get lunch and make a day of it. But Roy said he had other things he needed to do. He declined. He still had his good days and bad days. He seemed sad this morning.
“He struggled a lot with depression,” Brandy said. “He struggled a lot with anxiety. Social anxiety. He never felt like he was good enough or funny enough or liked. He was a sad spirit. But I don’t want that to overshadow all the great times.”
Brandy took a car and left. Roy texted her while she drove. He said he planned to fly the plane from the lake to the airport. He would take the Jeep they kept there and drive to the recital.
He texted her again about an hour later. He had not left the house.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I feel like you’re upset with me. I should’ve just gone with you.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Brandy replied. “I’m just disappointed that you couldn’t just go with me.”
Roy got into the plane. He took off at 11:47 a.m. He had logged 703.9 flight hours to that point, including 51.8 hours in the ICON A5 and 14.5 hours in his own ICON. He climbed to a little more than 1,900 feet. He flew north for about four miles before turning west, flying 10 miles toward the Gulf of Mexico. He texted Brandy from the air. He did not have enough time to get to the airport, which was a 40-minute drive north of the house, then drive south and get to Ryan’s school by1p.m. He said he would just fly home and drive from there.
“I love you. Just get here,” Brandy said.
“I love you too. I’m sorry. I should’ve just gone with you. Another wasted day.”
Halladay crossed U.S. Route19, a highway that runs along the Gulf Coast, at about 600 feet. He descended to 36 feet as he flew over the water. He turned south. He flew past Green Key Beach at 11 feet. He made a 360 degree turn to the right as he climbed to 100 feet. He continued to fly south. He came within 75 feet of some homes, which was in violation of FAA rules. The last airplane data had Halladay at 200 feet and flying at 87 knots (100 m.p.h.). Video footage showed the plane descending left at a 45-degree banked turn then steadying about 10 feet above the water. The plane made another climb between 300 to 500 feet. It made another 45-degree nose-down manoeuvre.
The plane crashed into the water at 12:04 p.m.
Brandy got to Ryan’s school. She texted Roy. She told tell him where they were sitting. They saved him a seat. It got closer to one o’clock. She texted him again.
“Where are you? The show is starting in five minutes. You’re supposed to be here.”
The concert started. She sent another text. “Where are you?”
A girlfriend texted Brandy about 30 minutes into the concert. “Please tell me you’re not flying today,” she said. “A small plane crashed behind the house.”
“Roy was flying earlier, but he’s not now,” Brandy replied. “What kind of plane was it?”
Her friend didn’t know. It landed upside down in the water, but she thought it was a bigger plane — not the smaller ICON A5. “It was not Roy,” Brandy told herself. He landed a while ago. He was probably parking the car and walking through the door at any moment. She texted Roy again.
“Oh my God, I heard there was a plane crash. Where are you?”
She started to worry, but she remained calm because she knew it wasn’t him. There was no way. The concert ended. Roy never showed. Brandy started to panic, but she also knew how forgetful he could be. He misplaced his phone all the time. She bet that he left his phone in the plane, got in the Jeep, and drove away. He was in a hurry. He didn’t have time to go back and get it.
Roy was going to show up. She just knew it. Brandy’s brother called. He was at the house.
“There’s a sheriff here,” he said, crying. “He needs to talk to you.”
Brandy screamed. She knew. “Fuck!”
She got home and called the boys’ schools and left word that they needed to come home immediately; there was a family emergency. Nobody confirmed yet that it was Halladay’s plane, but word started to spread. He was a celebrity. It would not take long. Brandy confirmed the tail number to the sheriff, which began a race against time. A local TV station showed up in front of the house before Braden and Ryan got there. She asked the crew to leave. The reporter coldly replied, “Ma’am, I’m sorry for your loss, but I have a job to do.”
Brandy needed to be the first person to tell her boys that their father died. One of Braden’s friends shot him a text.
“I just saw a tweet that your dad died in a plane crash. Is it true?” The boys got home. They knew the worst had happened.
“I literally can’t even talk to my kids to tell them on my terms or in my words, you know?” she said.
A stream of family and friends arrived at the Halladay home to lend their support. Brandy tried to collect her thoughts, but she struggled. Braden had friends at the house. Ryan preferred to be alone. Brandy wanted to be with both of them, but she had a houseful of people. She didn’t know what to do.
“You’re stuck between a rock and a rock,” she said.
Chris Carpenter was in a coffee and ice cream shop at home in New Hampshire when George Poulis texted him. Poulis said people thought Roy’s plane might have crashed, but nobody knew for sure. Carpenter texted a friend that had worked for the New Hampshire state police department, but now worked security in Tampa Bay. He told him that he needed to find out. The friend texted back within 15 minutes. Nothing had been confirmed or announced, but he told him that it was Halladay’s plane. Carpenter went home, turned on the TV, and watched. He felt numb for days.
“Just sadness,” Carpenter said. “Where do you go now? What are you even supposed to do?”
Carlos Ruiz woke up that morning in Panama to a dark sky. “It’s a sad day,” he told his brother. He took a nap in the afternoon. He awoke to a phone call from his agent, Marc Kligman. Chooch could tell something was wrong. Kligman told him that he had bad news. Was he ready for it? Chooch said yes. Kligman told him.
“Right there I felt something in my body,” Ruiz said. “I never expected something like that.”
Big Roy got a call from his daughter Heather, who heard from Brandy. He could not believe it. He wondered if there was a mistake.
Juan Castro recorded the final out of Halladay’s perfect game in 2011. He was in his backyard in Phoenix when a reporter from Mexico called for comment. Castro had not heard. He cried.
Jesse Biddle got advice from Halladay in the spring of 2014. They talked on the phone a few times, but lost touch over the years.
He got a notification on his phone. Is this real? he wondered. He felt like he was in a movie. He picked up the phone and called his parents in Philadelphia. Halladay considered Pat Hentgen one of the most important mentors of his career. Every fall Hentgen hosted a two-week hunting camp at his cabin in Ontario.
He was in a deer stand when former Blue Jays teammate Paul Spoljaric texted him that Halladay died. Hentgen pulled out his phone and scrolled through Twitter. Everybody from former Blue Jays president Paul Beeston to former general manager Alex Anthopoulos called. Hentgen never got more texts and calls in a single day before or since.
“Everybody was in disbelief,” he said.
Ken Huckaby caught Halladay 30 times with the Blue Jays. He cherished every moment. He was in the dugout in the Arizona Fall League. He got a text from Clay Bellinger, the former big leaguer and father of Dodgers star Cody Bellinger. “Did you hear about Doc?” Huckaby had a bad feeling as soon as he read the text. He called Bellinger, who told him. Huckaby went home. His wife was crying over the news.
Few people spent more time with Halladay during his career than Donovan Santas. He was driving when his wife called. She asked if he’d talked to Doc lately. He said he got a text from him a few days earlier. He wanted to know if he could speak to the kids at Braden’s high school and offer some training tips. Halladay thought the kids could be something special. Santas’s wife said she would call him back. She did. She said there was a report that Halladay’s plane crashed, but nobody knew if he was in the plane or if somebody else was flying it. Santas’s heart sank.
“I knew there was no one flying that plane other than him,” he said. “There was no, ‘Hey, do you want to take my plane up?’ It didn’t matter who it was. Like, there was no way there was anyone else in that plane but him. I was devastated. I didn’t need the news to be confirmed to know. I couldn’t believe it.”
Jimmy Rollins got the news in a text from Ryan Howard, but it didn’t hit him until later that night when he crawled into bed and his wife, Johari, kicked him to his side.
“It hit me that Brandy doesn’t have this anymore,” he said. “She doesn’t say move over or give me the pillow. Their sons don’t have their dad coming through the door and hearing his voice. That’s when it really got heavy.”
This excerpt from “Doc: The Life of Roy Halladay” by Todd Zolecki is printed with the permission of Triumph Books. For more information and to order a copy, please visit www.triumphbooks.com/DocBlueJays
“Where are you? The show is starting in five minutes. You’re supposed to be here.”
BRANDY HALLADAY IN A TEXT TO HER HUSBAND WHEN HE DIDN’T SHOW UP FOR HIS SON’S RECITAL