Jenny Cawson and Tarig Sinada were in one of Sea Story’s mid-level starboard cabins when the liveaboard capsized – their bodies have never been found. Jenny’s parents have written a powerful open letter to the dive community, calling on us to keep making noise until authorities take action over liveaboard safety.
Written by Pamela Williams
It was 11.15 am on 25 November 2024. I’d just finished an exercise class during which I’ve been thinking, on a grey winter’s day, of our darling daughter Jenny Cawson and her husband, Tarig Sinada in sunny Egypt, no doubt excited to be commencing their Red Sea diving trip, in the welcoming warmth and light, and the opportunity to dive in the sparkling sea, with it’s wonderful underwater treasures.
The evening before, Tarig had sent me photos of Jenny on the boat looking tired but happy after a difficult journey. It all looked so shiny and new. I was aware that it was not the boat that they’d booked to be on, and hoped they would enjoy the differences that holidaying with a larger group would bring.
However, the happy images in my mind were swiftly to turn to those of utter terror, as I checked my phone, and saw that there was a missed call from my husband; upon returning his call, I heard that Tarig’s mother had been in contact from Prague, asking if we knew the name of Jenny and Tarig’s dive boat, as there had been an incident reported on BBC News.
I replied that yes I had it – Jenny had sent me the details – and as I frantically searched through her texts, I told myself to prepare for possible extremely difficult news.
And in that unforgettable moment, there it was: ‘Sea Story’. I drove home with visions of potential scenarios filling my head… this was the start of the most excruciating time of my life. ‘Please don’t let my loved ones suffer’, I thought.
From that moment, confusion and fear ruled. Panic–stricken calls to the Foreign Office, the operator Divepro, and travel agency Liveaboard.com yielded no news, and that was to set the tone of the following completely tortuous weeks.
Family members, including Jenny’s sisters and aunt, and close friends of Jenny and Tarig soon joined us, and a hub of frantic activity formed in our kitchen. Hundreds of calls and texted messages were made to anyone and everyone that we could think of who needed to know the news, or might possibly be able to access information, or give advice on what to do.
I spoke several more times to Liveaboard.com. When I explained and requested updates, I was told there was no information yet, but to be reassured that all that could be done was being done. They told me to ‘have a nice day’.
Jenny’s sister and friend called every hotel and hospital in the vicinity of Marsa Alam, begging for any news they might have. One extremely kind hotelier called and visited local people and hospitals who might know more, and if Jenny and Tarig had been found. He felt like a lifeline for us, but still was no news.
The first results of the search and rescue started to appear on TV news: some survivors had been found. Later bulletins brought news of recovered bodies. But still no new news from the UK Foreign Office (FCDO). At this point we still hadn’t realised that the FCDO could only give us information that they had been given by the Egyptian authorities.
It was a particularly chilling moment to be told by people with previous experience that there very likely would not be any news available, as the Egyptian regime is known for its secrecy in situations of this nature. With evermore sinking hearts, we quickly realised more than ever that we were utterly powerless – and alone.
Through social media, my sister located and managed to speak to an Egyptian diver who had just rescued his own nephew from the capsized Sea Story wreck. He also appeared in video clips in subsequent news bulletins. But according to the information that the FCDO had received, the boat had not even been found.
Then, we saw video clips on news broadcasts showing a few survivors walking off the boat. One looked so much like Jenny, and many in the family were convinced it was her, willing it to be her – but no… still no news.
So it went on for a week and more, and by this time the Foreign Office had allocated a specific member of staff to contact us twice a day, albeit with no news.
I knew in my heart that Jenny and Tarig were not going to be found alive.
By this time we had spoken to an Egyptian rescuer who told us that there was one – inaccessible – cabin left to search and maybe the missing passengers were inside. They said that to attempt to open it would be fatal for the rescuing divers. Imagine the horror of hearing that twist of fate. Finally, the FCDO were told that the boat had been moved by the currents and had sunk to irrecoverable depths, but its location was unknown… and that is the last we heard.
Of course, during all this time, we were all desperately trying to cope with our thoughts and imaginations that Jenny and Tarig and the other missing passengers had suffered immeasurable distress, and we found differing ways of attempting to deal with these.
I had been told, for example, that the experience of drowning was considered to be one of the more peaceful ways to leave this life. I clung desperately to this, and it helped to keep me functioning until a callous, throw-away remark to the contrary was made in my hearing which threatened to dash my naïve hope to pieces, mirroring what was rumoured to have been happening to the boat.
Fortunately, there were others who made it their business to help us in any way they could think of, and this included supplying ready-made meals, snacks and various goodies. Two close family friends and family members nobly dedicated their efforts into spearheading contact with the international diving community, and received numerous horrifying reports of suspected poor health and safety regulations on Red Sea dive boats. There was indeed a history in recent years of incidents with diveboats indicating potential negligence.
Naturally, most people did not have a clue what to say despite wanting to comfort us. A few brave souls wished to talk with us directly, or by phone. But the experience of talking brought on extra mountains of agony, although this would eventually prove to be cathartic.
Of special note here was the absolute necessity for quiet and calm in the house, and when the buzzing hub of phone calls and conversations was moved to a separate room, and then finally dispersed, it brought such massive relief.
Our peace had been threatened by this time, however, by journalists knocking at our house, and those of family and friends. We felt desperate to retain our privacy, and yet knew the story must be told.
We were clear that Jenny and Tarig would abhor a tabloid-type approach, so we approached BBC World News.
The following weeks then brought the pressing urgency to try to address Jenny and Tarig’s personal affairs, which proved to be extremely challenging owing to the online nature of these, and data protection regulations. Should we find a solicitor to help? That’s when we discovered that there aren’t many with the relevant experience.
We Googled what to do in the case of missing persons and discovered that an application to the courts can be made for a Declaration of Presumed Death, and we are began the process of pursuing this, which would enable us to obtain Certificates of Presumed Death, which in turn will help us to deal with missed payments and other details of their lives.
Jenny and Tarig’s employers proved to be extremely supportive, and we cannot thank them enough.
In terms of how we coped, Jenny’s father feels that tackling this huge administrative puzzle and task has kept his mind occupied, and actually helped him through these first weeks after the tragedy.
I have found solace in the quiet of home and simple everyday tasks, daily exercise, walks in nature with Jenny and Tarig’s dog, the emotional and practical help of particular close friends and family. Each has a different role to play and skills to contribute to our complex web of needs – which can vary by the minute as emotions wash over us like huge waves.
What has been the hardest to bear so far? Obviously the growing certainty that our nearest and dearest have been taken away (physically) forever – by pure accident, by some unknown force or purpose, by some pre-ordained destiny?
This has felt like losing a major part of oneself, an exposed raw feeling of something that has been hacked away, and a feeling of sickness in one’s deepest parts. But this has been very significantly compounded by the growing signs and evidence of intentional deceit and negligence on the part of others into whose hands our precious Jenny and Tarig trustingly placed themselves.
This is utterly devastating. I am only just finding myself able to bear hearing such questions such as whether the boat’s GPS towers were adequate, whether there were batteries in the life vest lights, whether the boat was even seaworthy.
Apparently a rage is growing in the international diving community about the number of events in the Red Sea which indicate serious shortcomings of health and safety regulations at that time and a serious lack of monitoring.
We say: ‘Rage away, please – on behalf of the traumatised survivors, the bereaved and missing, and their grief-stricken loved ones. Fight for them and for us. Don’t give up in the face of this monstrous state of affairs.
‘We all owe it to our loved ones, and all those that will follow. Let’s see to it that they will be well protected by robust safety measures – as is surely their right to expect from a well–established tourist industry such as this.
‘Diving tourists need protection from those who place themselves in the onerous position of providing such trips. Shame on those who seek to hide the truth and collude to provide a total sham of a diving industry that depends on the trust – and money – of its unsuspecting customers.’
Pamela & Michael Williams
17/02/25
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