Midnight had struck, champagne corks popped, and the air thrummed with jubilation as revelers at Le Constellation bar in the picturesque Swiss ski resort of Crans-Montana toasted to 2026. Nestled amid snow-capped peaks and luxury chalets, the venue pulsed with energy—young partygoers dancing under dim lights, laughter echoing off the walls. But in a heartbeat, celebration turned to catastrophe. Flames erupted from the ceiling, devouring the room in a ferocious blaze that claimed 40 lives and injured 119 others. Swiss authorities now point to a seemingly innocuous culprit: sparklers affixed to champagne bottles, held perilously close to flammable foam panels overhead. Yet, as investigators probe deeper, “several hypotheses” remain on the table, fueling speculation and sorrow in this alpine paradise. This is the story of a night that shattered lives, a community’s resilience, and the haunting questions that persist in the cold January air of 2026.

Crans-Montana, perched at 1,500 meters in the Valais canton, is a jewel of the Swiss Alps. Known for its world-class ski slopes, stunning vistas of the Matterhorn, and upscale vibe, it attracts celebrities, families, and thrill-seekers year-round. The late actor Roger Moore once called it home, and its annual events draw crowds from across Europe. Le Constellation, a beloved basement nightclub in the heart of the resort, embodied that glamour. Purchased in 2015 by French nationals Jacques and Jessica Moretti, the bar had undergone renovations, boasting a capacity of up to 300 patrons. It featured a chic interior with a small terrace, soundproofed ceilings for thumping bass, and a reputation for lively nights. On New Year’s Eve 2025, it was packed—mostly with teenagers and young adults aged 15 to 30, many locals and tourists from Switzerland, France, Italy, and beyond. The atmosphere was electric: DJ sets, flowing drinks, and the promise of a fresh start.

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What to know about the deadly fire at a Swiss Alpine bar’s New …

The timeline of terror began around 1:30 a.m. on January 1, 2026. Eyewitness accounts and geolocated videos paint a vivid picture. Partygoers were in high spirits, raising bottles of champagne adorned with fountain sparklers—those dazzling “Bengal lights” or sparkling candles that shoot sparks skyward. Staff, as part of a routine show, paraded them through the crowd. But one bottle, or perhaps several, was thrust too near the ceiling. The foam soundproofing panels, designed to muffle music but potentially not fire-retardant, ignited instantly. Flames licked across the surface, triggering a flashover—a phenomenon where heat builds so rapidly that everything combustible erupts simultaneously. Screams pierced the air as black smoke billowed, visibility dropped to zero, and panic ensued. Some smashed windows to escape; others clambered up the narrow staircase from the basement. In the chaos, a backdraft explosion—caused by fresh oxygen rushing in—sent blasts of heat and debris flying.

Survivors’ tales are gut-wrenching. Lea Zehnder, 22, was at a nearby bar when she heard cries for help. “We ran out and saw people with burns, screaming in pain,” she told reporters. Her group assisted the injured, wrapping them in blankets against the sub-zero temperatures. Tristan Fischer, 20, recounted how his 17-year-old brother broke windows to pull people out, an act of heroism that now haunts him with nightmares. Italian golfer Emanuele Galeppini, 16, was among the first identified victims—his promising life cut short. French footballer Tahirys Dos Santos, 19, suffered severe burns and was airlifted to a German specialist center, where he fights for survival. Families like that of 16-year-old Achille Barosi cling to hope; he vanished after re-entering the bar for his jacket and phone.

The death toll climbed to 40, with 119 injured—many critically. Identification is a painstaking process, relying on dental records, DNA, and clothing descriptions due to the severity of burns. As of January 7, 2026, 113 victims have been formally identified: 71 Swiss, 14 French, 11 Italians, four Serbs, and one each from Bosnia, Belgium, Luxembourg, Poland, and Portugal. The nationalities reflect Crans-Montana’s international allure. Burns experts warn that survivors face grueling recoveries—third-degree burns covering 15% or more of the body can be fatal, with risks of infection, organ failure, and lifelong scarring. Around 50 patients have been transferred to burn units across Europe, including in France, Germany, and Poland.

Swiss authorities, led by Valais Attorney General Béatrice Pilloud, swiftly launched an investigation. Initial findings, announced on January 3, pinpoint the sparklers as the probable ignition source. “The fire appears to have been caused by sparklers placed on bottles of champagne that came too close to the ceiling,” Pilloud stated in a press conference. Photos authenticated by BBC Verify show the sparklers in action, their sparks dancing dangerously near the foam. A Swiss fire expert explained that such panels, if not properly treated, burn like tinder, releasing toxic gases that can incapacitate in seconds. Yet, Pilloud emphasized caution: “Several hypotheses are still being investigated.” These include the ceiling materials’ compliance with regulations—did the foam meet fire codes? Was it installed horizontally, exacerbating spread? Other angles probe the bar’s operating license, fire extinguisher placement, emergency exits (including whether the back door was locked), and occupancy levels. No terrorism link was found; the explosion was fire-induced.

The Morettis, the bar owners, were questioned but not under suspicion. They insist the venue passed three inspections in the last decade and was fully compliant. “We are devastated,” Jacques Moretti said in a statement. “Le Constellation was a place of joy.” Prosecutors are interviewing survivors, staff, and witnesses to reconstruct the night. If negligence is proven—perhaps in material choices or safety protocols—charges could include negligent arson, homicide, and bodily injury. The basement’s single narrow staircase raises red flags; in a stampede, it could have bottlenecked escapes. Capacity concerns linger: Was the bar overpacked? Exact numbers remain unknown, but estimates suggest 200-300 inside.

The tragedy’s scale has stunned Switzerland, a nation unaccustomed to such mass casualties. President Guy Parmelin declared five days of national mourning, calling it “one of the worst tragedies our country has experienced.” Flags flew at half-mast, and a national ceremony is set for January 9 in Crans-Montana, uniting dignitaries, families, and residents. Pope Leo offered prayers for the “deceased and suffering.” French President Emmanuel Macron expressed solidarity, noting French victims treated in domestic hospitals. UK Foreign Secretary Yvette Cooper pledged support for any British nationals affected. The European Union extended medical aid, highlighting cross-border cooperation.

In Crans-Montana, grief is palpable. Hundreds gathered at a traffic circle near the charred site, laying flowers, candles, and messages: “Rest in peace among the stars.” White tents shield the ruins as forensic teams work. A support center in a conference hall aids families, providing psychological counseling. Locals describe the bar as a “second home”—vibrant, welcoming, with no prior incidents. “It’s unimaginable,” said resident Mathias Reynard. “Young lives, full of potential, gone in an instant.” Firefighters, who battled the blaze for hours, left their own tributes at the scene.

Broader implications ripple outward. This fire echoes global nightclub disasters: the 2003 Station nightclub fire in Rhode Island (100 dead from pyrotechnics), Brazil’s 2013 Kiss nightclub blaze (242 killed by foam ignition), and Romania’s 2015 Colectiv tragedy (64 dead from fireworks). Each underscores the dangers of flammable interiors in enclosed spaces. In Switzerland, where safety standards are stringent, questions arise: Are inspections rigorous enough? Italian Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani criticized the use of fireworks indoors: “Not a responsible choice.” Advocacy groups call for bans on sparklers in venues and mandatory fire-retardant materials.

As January 7 dawns, the investigation presses on. Forensic analysis of debris, video footage, and autopsies will clarify timelines. Families endure agony—waiting for identifications, visiting hospitals, mourning publicly. For survivors like Dos Santos, rehabilitation looms: skin grafts, therapy, rebuilding lives scarred physically and emotionally. The resort, usually buzzing with skiers, feels subdued; tourism dips amid the pall.

Yet, amid despair, stories of heroism emerge. Bystanders who pulled victims from flames, staff who guided escapes—these acts affirm humanity’s spirit. Crans-Montana’s community rallies: fundraisers for families, vigils under starry skies. The tragedy stimulates reflection: In pursuing joy, do we overlook risks? Sparklers, symbols of celebration, became harbingers of doom. As hypotheses evolve, one truth endures: 40 souls lost, but their memories ignite calls for change.

In the Alps’ eternal snow, Le Constellation’s ashes whisper warnings. Will answers bring closure? Or will shadows linger, like embers in the night?