Some survival stories don't fade with time — they just get harder to hear. That's exactly what's happening with Ljubiša Karović, the 61-year-old Serbian entrepreneur who, on July 10, was violently pulled halfway out of a Ryanair aircraft window at 15,000 feet. Weeks later, he's not just recovering physically — he's opening up about a trauma that, by his own account, hasn't loosened its grip at all.
What Actually Happened
Karović was flying with his wife, Svetlana, on Ryanair flight FR1879 — operated by Malta Air — from Thessaloniki, Greece, to Memmingen, Germany, headed to celebrate his brother's birthday. He had settled into window seat 11C when, moments after takeoff, he heard what he described as a sound like an explosion. The aircraft's window had shattered, and the sudden loss of cabin pressure created a force strong enough to pull him out of his seat and partway out of the plane.
His lawyer, Vasilis Tsiaras, later put the physics of the moment in stark terms: at a speed of more than 600 km/h, Karović ended up with his head and right arm outside the aircraft. He lost consciousness almost immediately as the cabin depressurized. Tsiaras didn't mince words describing the odds his client faced, calling him 'alive by mistake.'
What likely saved his life was the people around him. Svetlana, seated three rows behind him, ran forward and grabbed his legs to keep him from being pulled out entirely. She later described the moment with brutal honesty: she grabbed on thinking that if they were going to die, at least they'd die together. Other passengers, initially frozen in shock, quickly joined in — one man, believed to be Albanian, first tried using a bag to block the shattered window, which was immediately sucked out, before grabbing a suitcase that finally held. Passengers pulled Karović back inside together, his face visibly deformed from the trauma, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
Ryanair confirmed that the flight returned to Thessaloniki shortly after takeoff following the mid-air incident. Preliminary findings, according to Ryanair CEO Michael O'Leary, point to the possibility that the engine suffered foreign-object damage — essentially, that debris struck the engine, causing part of it to break off and strike the window next to Karović. The exact cause remains under formal investigation.
The Injuries — and the Invisible Ones
Karović's physical injuries were severe: damage to his head, eye, and ear, friction burns, injuries to his spine and shoulder, and temporary paralysis on one side of his body. Doctors have told him and his wife that his recovery will likely take months and could require multiple additional surgeries.
But in interviews since the incident, Karović has been just as candid about the psychological toll — arguably more so. He says he now suffers panic attacks whenever he hears the sound of an airplane. He's described himself as being 'at rock bottom' mentally, saying plainly that he is 'destroyed' and that the experience has fundamentally altered his life. He's said he can no longer go outside easily, that 'everything bothers' him, and that he has no intention of ever flying again.
Speaking to press, he's returned repeatedly to the sound — the explosion, the chaos — as the detail that won't leave him. It's the moment before everything that seems to replay the most, the noise that 'is always there' when he tries to sleep. That detail matters clinically too: it's a common feature of post-traumatic stress, where the mind fixates not on the outcome but on the instant everything changed.
A Story That's Still Unfolding
What makes this a genuine update story rather than a one-time news flash is that Karović's account has been deepening over several weeks, not fading. Early coverage focused on the mechanics of the incident and Ryanair's official statement. As the days passed, more human detail emerged — his wife's account of physically holding onto him, the stranger who helped seal the window, the surgeries still ahead, and now, most recently, the mental health toll that's proving just as serious as the physical injuries.
This pattern is worth noting for anyone following the story: the full picture of a traumatic incident rarely arrives all at once. The first 24 hours produce the facts — what happened, who was involved, what the airline says caused it. The weeks that follow produce the human cost — what the survivors are actually living with once the cameras and initial headlines move on. Karović's case is a clear example of that second, slower wave of reporting, and it's arguably the more important one for understanding what an incident like this really costs the people who survive it.
What This Means for Ryanair — and Air Travel Scrutiny
The incident adds to a run of uncomfortable headlines for Ryanair and for budget aviation more broadly. Questions about aircraft maintenance, engine integrity, and how airlines communicate with passengers during in-flight emergencies tend to resurface whenever an incident like this makes international news. Ryanair's own statement acknowledged that the window 'dislodged inflight' and that the aircraft made an emergency return — a fairly clinical description of an event that, for the people onboard, was anything but routine.
For now, the investigation into the exact cause remains open, and neither Ryanair nor aviation authorities have issued a final determination on what specifically caused the engine damage. Until that report lands, the story will likely keep circling back to two threads: what technically failed on that aircraft, and what it actually did to the people who were on it.
The Bigger Picture
Karović's case is a reminder that survival and recovery are not the same thing, and that 'he's alive' is often just the first sentence of a much longer story. His physical wounds have a rough timeline — months, more surgeries, an uncertain but plausible path to healing. His psychological wounds don't come with the same kind of roadmap. Panic at the sound of a plane engine isn't something that resolves on a surgical schedule, and there's no indication yet of what support, if any, he's receiving to work through it.
What's striking, reading his own words across multiple interviews, is the contrast between the language of luck — 'I am lucky,' 'alive by mistake' — and the language of devastation — 'destroyed,' 'rock bottom.' Both are true at once. He survived something that, by every account from people at the scene, he very plausibly shouldn't have. And surviving it hasn't made it easier to live with.
As the investigation into the mechanical cause continues, Karović's own account is likely to remain the more human, and more lasting, part of this story — not what broke on the plane, but what it broke in him.
Frequently Asked Questions
What happened to Ljubiša Karović on the Ryanair flight? He was partially sucked out of a shattered aircraft window at 15,000 feet after debris, believed to have come from the engine, struck and broke the window during a flight from Thessaloniki to Memmingen on July 10, 2026.
What injuries did Karović suffer? He sustained damage to his head, eye, and ear, friction burns, spinal and shoulder injuries, and temporary paralysis on one side of his body, along with ongoing psychological trauma including panic attacks.
What caused the window to break? Ryanair CEO Michael O'Leary said preliminary findings suggest the engine may have suffered foreign-object damage, though the official cause remains under investigation.
Is Karović expected to recover? Doctors have said his physical recovery will take months and may require multiple additional surgeries. He has also spoken publicly about ongoing psychological trauma.