A lifesaving crew grounded in crisis, as rural communities reckon with fragility and quiet heroism.
SACRAMENTO, CA — A REACH Air Medical Services helicopter, based in Redding, crashed onto eastbound Highway 50 near 59th Street on Monday evening, critically injuring all three crew members aboard—a pilot, a paramedic, and flight nurse Suzie Smith, who was pinned beneath the wreckage and rescued by civilians and first responders.
The aircraft had just departed UC Davis Medical Center and was en route to pick up a patient—destination still unconfirmed—when it experienced an in-air emergency. Miraculously, no motorists were injured despite the helicopter crashing in the center of a busy freeway.
For Mendocino County residents, this tragedy isn’t just news—it’s personal. REACH helicopters are a lifeline for rural hospitals in Fort Bragg, Willits, and Ukiah, connecting patients to trauma centers and specialty stroke and heart care in Santa Rosa, Sacramento, and beyond. When the roads are closed, the weather’s dicey, or the clock is ticking, REACH crews fly in—literally.
Founded in 1987 by Dr. John McDonald Jr. of Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital, REACH (Redwood Empire Air Care Helicopter) now operates 30 bases across eight states. The company recently acquired former rival Calstar, expanding its reach and resources. Their crews typically include two paramedics and a pilot, many trained to fly in adverse conditions—even without instruments. They don’t just transport—they stabilize, they intervene, they save.
How Rare Are REACH Helicopter Crashes?
According to FAA and NTSB records, REACH has had only three serious incidents in the past decade:
- 2015: A training accident in Apple Valley involving a towel sucked into the tail rotor. No injuries.
- 2022: A bird strike near Yuba City injured a pilot’s leg. No other injuries.
- 2025: This week’s Sacramento crash. Cause still under investigation.
REACH averages about 1,800 flights annually nationwide. With 30 bases and a strong presence in Northern California, Mendocino County likely sees hundreds of those flights each year. That means the three incidents represent less than 0.2% of total flights over a decade—and even fewer when narrowed to our coast. Statistically, REACH flights remain among the safest forms of emergency transport.
Local Voices, Local Impact
Fort Bragg nurse and longtime REACH collaborator Maria Lopez reflected, “We see these crews as part of our extended hospital family. They don’t just fly—they show up in the worst moments and make survival possible.”
And they do it without fanfare. No sirens, no headlines—just a rotor hum and a promise kept.
But this week, that promise faltered. And with the FAA and NTSB both impacted by the ongoing government shutdown, it remains unclear whether federal investigators are actively involved in the Sacramento crash review. A silence that feels especially loud in rural communities that rely on transparency and trust. The NTSB website said no cases are being updated nor are new cases being added during the shutdown.
Suzie Smith, the flight nurse critically injured in the crash, is known not only for her service across Northern California but also for her work as a medical missionary in Nicaragua and Sri Lanka. Her family and friends describe her as “tough as nails” and “dedicated to serving others,” and have asked for prayers for the recovery of all three crew members. She was publicly identified by her family, while the names of the other two people were unavailable.
As the community rallies around Smith and her crew, Mendocino County residents are reminded of the quiet heroism behind each flight—and the fragility of the systems that keep rural healthcare connected.
These helicopters don’t just skim the skies—they stitch together the fractured edges of rural medicine. They rise through fog, wind, and bureaucratic silence to deliver what the coast cannot always provide: time, expertise, and a fighting chance.
And when one of them falls, we feel it in our bones. In every ER hallway where a REACH crew once landed. In every family that got one more day. In every nurse who knows the sound of rotor blades means hope.
This week, we don’t just pray for recovery—we recommit to the truth: that rural lives deserve swift care, clear answers, and the kind of infrastructure that doesn’t vanish when the government shuts down.
Because out here, heroism isn’t loud. It flies low, lands hard, and saves quietly. And when it’s grounded, we rise.
Editor’s note- We chose not to share the video of the crash that is a viral video on the Internet.
