Published : 21 Jul 2026, 02:06 AM
‘No Answers, No Closure’
Demand for accountability: Grieving parents have rejected official financial compensation, demanding full transparency over the investigation
Frozen in time: Families of the 36 victims remain trapped in grief, leaving classrooms untouched and rooms preserved as sanctuaries
Persistent fear: Relatives are calling for flight path changes to stop military training flights over densely populated areas.
Bereaved families say they are still waiting for answers, accountability and the release of the full investigation report into the Milestone School jet crash.
They say they still do not know exactly what happened.

In the homes of many, grief has scarcely moved. Mahatab Rahman's study desk remains untouched. His books lie exactly where he left them, and every day his mother dusts them before clutching his clothes and breaking down in tears.
For Tanvir Ahmed's mother, it is her son's smile that refuses to fade. He died on the way to the National Institute of Burn and Plastic Surgery after suffering severe injuries in the disaster.
For hundreds of families, the day of the crash has never really ended.
On Jul 21 last year, a Bangladesh Air Force training aircraft slammed into a building at Milestone School and College in Uttara, killing 36 people and injuring more than 150, most of them children.
Tuesday marks the first anniversary of what remains Bangladesh's deadliest aviation disaster.
The mourning has not lifted. Neither has the anger.

'I Still See My Eldest Son's Smile'
Every morning, Md Rubel Mia walks his younger son into the same school where his elder son, Tanvir, never came home from.
"I dropped my son at school with my own hands that morning," he said. "By afternoon, I received his body."
He now scans crowds of students, instinctively searching for Tanvir.
"I never find him. I only see his smile from that last day."
The final moments replay endlessly in his mind.
Tanvir had been standing near the school gate after class. Rubel handed him money for tiffin. The boy smiled.
Moments later, while at a nearby bank with his younger son, Rubel heard reports that an aircraft had crashed into Milestone.
He rushed back to find flames engulfing the very building where Tanvir studied.
After frantic searching, he learned that his son had died on the way to the burn hospital.
As he recalled the day, tears rolled down his face.

Mahatab was a seventh-grade student who had moved to Dhaka from Rajendrapur Cantonment Public School hoping for a better education.
His father Minhaz Rahman pointed silently to the untouched study table.
"The books haven't moved for a year," he said.
"Our home used to be full of laughter. Now it feels like a graveyard. Mahatab's mother still isn't herself. She hugs his clothes and cries."
Lingering Fear
Tasnim Afroze Ayman, a fourth grader, proudly wore her new school uniform on the morning of Jul 21.
She had even driven part of the way to school beside her father after learning to handle the car.
Four days later, the 10-year-old died from her burns.
"I dressed her in her new uniform and fed her breakfast," recalled her mother, Ayesha Akter Kanan.
"If I had known what would happen that day, I would never have sent her to school."
Families continue to question the Air Force's handling of the tragedy, the building's design and the decision to operate training flights over a densely populated area.

Rubel had planned to transfer his younger son from Milestone after the tragedy.
He eventually changed his mind because the child struggled to adapt elsewhere.
"With a heavy heart, I brought him back."
Yet every aircraft overhead revives the fear.
"Training flights still continue according to schedule," he said.
"We live in constant fear that another tragedy could happen."
He believes no one has truly been held accountable.

Questions Without Answers
Among those killed were 28 students, three teachers, three guardians, one staff member and the pilot.
A government investigation committee submitted its report in November after examining 168 findings and making 33 recommendations.
It concluded that pilot error during training and loss of control caused the crash.
But many families say they have never been allowed to see the report.
"The investigation mentioned building code violations and pilot error," Rubel said.
"But we still haven't been told exactly what happened."
He also criticised the government's compensation plan, saying his family rejected the financial assistance offered.
Minhaz voiced similar frustration.
"What happened? Why did it happen? Who was responsible?" he asked. "We still don't know."
He also criticised the Air Force, saying no senior official had contacted the families or accepted responsibility.

"In any other country, there would have been accountability."
His demand is simple: either relocate the school or move the training flights elsewhere.
'Money Cannot Bring My Daughter Back'
Ayesha Akter still remembers her daughter's courage in hospital.
"My little girl told me, 'Mother, nothing has happened to me. Don't cry. Tell father not to cry either'."

Despite suffering burns from her neck down, Ayman worried about her younger sisters, her injured friend and her teacher.
She died before dawn on Jul 25.
The family has never returned to their Uttara home.
Her school uniform still hangs in her room. Her water bottle, notebooks and toys remain exactly where she left them.
The interim government later announced compensation, eventually offering Tk 2 million to each bereaved family and Tk 500,000 to each injured survivor.
None accepted it.
"What would I do with money?" Ayesha said.
"Even if you gave me the whole world, would my Ayman come back? I said I would pay instead, if only I could hold her for one second."

Her only demand is that the school be moved.
"My daughter is gone, but hundreds of children like her still study there. I don't want another mother to lose her child."
Milestone School founder and advisor, retired colonel Nurun Nabi, said the issue of flight paths lay with the Civil Aviation Authority and RAJUK.
He said Air Force training flights had since been relocated and only operational aircraft occasionally flew over the city.
The school, he said, had spent months helping students recover, while maintaining contact with every bereaved family.
He acknowledged that no family accepted the compensation, saying many believed it could never reflect the scale of their loss.
One year after the crash, the wreckage has long been cleared.
For the families left behind, however, the questions remain as enduring as the grief.