In the annals of modern history, few events have captivated the world quite like the tragic death of Diana, Princess of Wales, on August 31, 1997. What began as a seemingly ordinary summer night in Paris ended in catastrophe inside the Pont de l’Alma tunnel, where a high-speed car crash claimed the lives of Diana, her companion Dodi Fayed, and their driver Henri Paul. Amid the chaos and controversy that followed, one man’s presence at the scene stands out as a poignant twist of fate: Dr. Frederic Mailliez, a French emergency physician whose off-duty drive home led him to become the first medical professional to reach the wreckage. In recent interviews, Mailliez has revisited those harrowing moments, sharing intimate details of his desperate attempts to save the unidentified woman he later learned was the iconic princess. His account not only sheds light on Diana’s final struggles but also underscores the human element in one of the 20th century’s most scrutinized tragedies.

Dr. Mailliez, then 35 years old and working as an anesthesiologist at the American Hospital of Paris, was driving along the Seine River after attending a friend’s birthday party. It was around 12:23 a.m. when he approached the entrance to the Alma Tunnel, a short underpass near the Champs-Élysées known for its heavy traffic and dim lighting. As he entered the tunnel, his headlights caught sight of a horrific scene: a black Mercedes S280 sedan, severely mangled and emitting smoke from its engine, had slammed into the 13th pillar on the right side of the roadway. The car was traveling at an estimated 65-100 mph, far exceeding the 30 mph limit, in a bid to evade pursuing paparazzi. Mailliez pulled over immediately, his medical instincts kicking in despite being off-duty. “I walked toward the wreckage. I opened the door, and I looked inside,” he later recounted, his voice steady but laced with the weight of memory.

What greeted him was a tableau of devastation. Inside the crumpled vehicle, four people were trapped: driver Henri Paul slumped lifeless over the steering wheel, his body mangled beyond recognition; Dodi Fayed, seated behind him, also appearing dead with no signs of breathing or movement; Trevor Rees-Jones, the bodyguard in the front passenger seat, conscious but screaming in agony from severe injuries; and in the back, a young woman on her knees on the floor, her head bowed low, struggling desperately to breathe. Mailliez quickly assessed the situation: two victims were beyond immediate help, but the two survivors needed urgent intervention. He prioritized the woman, whom he described as “very beautiful” but did not recognize due to the dim light, her disheveled state, and his focus on triage. “She had difficulty breathing. She needed quick assistance,” he said.

Without hesitation, Mailliez sprinted back to his Peugeot 405 to retrieve his emergency medical kit, which included a respiratory bag—a simple device for manual ventilation. As he returned, he noticed flashes from camera bulbs; paparazzi had arrived almost simultaneously, drawn by the chase. Undeterred, he knelt beside the woman, speaking first in French before switching to English upon learning from bystanders that the victims were English-speaking. “I am a doctor. Don’t worry,” he reassured her calmly, though inside, the scene’s intensity was overwhelming. Diana, semi-conscious and in shock, was moaning in pain, her words reduced to cries of distress: “My God, what happened?” or simply expressions of agony, according to varying accounts from Mailliez and other witnesses. He applied the respiratory bag to her mouth, helping her regain a bit of strength, but she remained unable to speak coherently. “She was unconscious. Thanks to my respiratory bag, she regained a little bit more energy, but she couldn’t say anything,” Mailliez recalled.

While administering aid, Mailliez used his car phone—a novelty in 1997—to call the SAMU (Service d’Aide Médicale Urgente), France’s emergency medical service, directly. His background as an emergency doctor for the Paris Fire Brigade allowed him this privilege, enabling a precise report: multiple victims, two in cardiac arrest, one screaming, and one woman in respiratory distress. This call likely shaved precious minutes off response times. As he worked, more bystanders gathered, including the paparazzi, but Mailliez noted they did not interfere. “They didn’t hamper me having access to the victims,” he said, defending them against later accusations. In fact, some photographers even helped by alerting authorities. However, the flashes from their cameras created a surreal, strobe-lit atmosphere amid the smoke and debris.

Professional help arrived about five minutes later: a fire brigade team led by Sergeant Xavier Gourmelon, who took over from Mailliez. Gourmelon later testified that he found Diana still alive but in critical condition, her heart stopping briefly as rescuers freed her from the wreckage using a spinal board. She was intubated at the scene and placed in a hyperbaric chamber for transport to La Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital, about four miles away. The journey took 43 minutes, during which Diana suffered cardiac arrest multiple times. Despite defibrillation and other interventions, she was pronounced dead at 4:00 a.m. from internal injuries, including a ruptured pulmonary vein—damage so severe that even immediate advanced care might not have saved her.

Mailliez, exhausted but relieved to hand off to professionals, drove home without realizing the identity of his patient. It wasn’t until he turned on the television the next morning that the shocking truth dawned: the woman he had comforted was none other than Princess Diana. “It was a massive shock to learn that she was Princess Diana, and that she died,” he admitted. Self-doubt immediately set in. “Did I do everything I could to save her? Did I do correctly my job?” He consulted his medical professors and police investigators, who assured him his actions were textbook—prioritizing airway management in a pre-hospital setting. Yet, the emotional toll lingered. “I feel a little bit responsible for her last moments,” he confessed in a 2022 interview marking the 25th anniversary. “I’m probably the last person she heard.”

Diana’s death was no ordinary accident; it ignited global mourning and endless speculation. The British inquest in 2007-2008, the longest and most expensive in history, concluded it was unlawful killing due to Paul’s intoxication (his blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit), excessive speed, and the paparazzi pursuit, though no criminal charges were filed against the photographers. Conspiracy theories proliferated—alleging involvement by the royal family, MI6, or even the Fayed family—fueled by Mohamed Al-Fayed’s claims of murder to prevent Diana from marrying Dodi and exposing secrets. Books like Tina Brown’s “The Diana Chronicles” and documentaries such as “Diana: In Her Own Words” dissected her life, portraying her as a humanitarian icon who championed AIDS awareness, landmine bans, and children’s causes, often at odds with the monarchy.

Mailliez’s role thrust him into this maelstrom. Post-crash, he faced a media siege, with journalists offering large sums for his story, which he declined to protect patient confidentiality. He received a touching letter from Diana’s mother, Frances Shand Kydd, thanking him for his efforts: “You were the first person to help Diana and her companions after the accident… God bless you.” This gesture provided some solace, but the doctor has spoken sparingly over the years, only emerging for anniversaries. In 2017, for the 20th, he told CBS News the images are “printed in my memory,” resurfacing every time he drives through the tunnel. By 2022, at the 25th, he stood atop the tunnel’s entrance, where a stencil of Diana’s face now adorns the crash pillar, and the nearby Flame of Liberty sculpture has become an impromptu shrine visited by fans worldwide.

Diana’s legacy endures profoundly. Her sons, Prince William and Prince Harry, have channeled their grief into initiatives like mental health advocacy and the Invictus Games. William, now Prince of Wales, has spoken of the PTSD-like trauma of her death, while Harry’s memoir “Spare” details the raw pain of losing his mother at 12. The princess, once dubbed the “People’s Princess” by Prime Minister Tony Blair, remains a symbol of compassion and rebellion against royal rigidity. Her fashion, from the “revenge dress” to her iconic gowns, influences trends even today, and her charitable work continues through the Diana Award and other foundations.

For Mailliez, now in his 60s and still practicing medicine, the coincidence of that night defines him. “There is quite a strange coincidence,” he reflected in 2017. He views Diana not as royalty but as a vulnerable human in crisis, emphasizing the universality of emergency response. His story humanizes the tragedy, reminding us that behind headlines are ordinary acts of heroism. As the world reflects on what would have been her 64th birthday in July 2025, Mailliez’s interviews serve as a bridge to those final moments—cries of pain silenced too soon, but a legacy that echoes eternally.

In the end, Dr. Mailliez’s encounter with Diana encapsulates the randomness of fate: a doctor in the right place at the wrong time, offering comfort to a global icon unaware of her fame. His efforts, though ultimately futile against her injuries, embody the essence of medicine—racing against time to preserve life. Twenty-eight years on, as conspiracy whispers fade and admiration grows, Mailliez’s quiet heroism stands as a testament to the night that changed history forever.