What if one man’s obsession just cracked the code on aviation’s darkest secret?

For 11 years, MH370’s ghost has haunted families and experts alike—239 souls lost to the void, with $200 million in searches turning up nothing but echoes. But aerospace engineer Richard Godfrey, armed with “ghost signals” from amateur radio waves, says he’s nailed the crash site in the Indian Ocean’s abyss. No more wild guesses; this could be the proof that ends the nightmare… or ignites a firestorm of doubt.

Curious if this is the breakthrough we’ve waited for? Dive into the evidence that has the world buzzing. 👇

In a dimly lit conference room packed with journalists, grieving families, and skeptical aviation officials, British aerospace engineer Richard Godfrey stood before a massive screen displaying jagged lines of radio signal data. His voice steady but laced with urgency, Godfrey declared: “This is not theory. This is proof beyond doubt.” For nearly a decade, the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 has stood as the ultimate unsolved riddle in modern aviation—a Boeing 777 vanishing with 239 passengers and crew, sparking everything from pilot suicide conspiracies to wild tales of black holes in the Indian Ocean. But on October 25, 2025, Godfrey, a 72-year-old retired engineer turned amateur sleuth, dropped a bombshell that could rewrite the narrative: precise coordinates for the plane’s final resting place, pinpointed using a controversial technique involving “ghost signals” from ham radio transmissions.

The briefing, held at a nondescript hotel in Kuala Lumpur, wasn’t your typical presser. No Malaysian government logos, no glossy brochures from search firm Ocean Infinity. Just Godfrey, a laptop, and a stack of printouts from his self-published website, mh370search.com. Flanked by a handful of supporters—including debris hunter Blaine Gibson, who has scoured African beaches for MH370 fragments—Godfrey unveiled what he calls a “global passive radar” system built on Weak Signal Propagation Reporter (WSPR) data. This amateur radio network, used by hobbyists to test long-distance signal propagation, allegedly captured ripples—subtle disturbances—in radio waves caused by the massive Boeing 777 slicing through the atmosphere on March 8, 2014.

“Imagine the plane as a shadow passing over a pond,” Godfrey explained, gesturing to a graph showing anomalous signal fades aligned with the flight’s suspected southern arc into the Indian Ocean. “These aren’t random blips. They’re fingerprints.” His analysis points to a crash site at 33.177°S, 95.300°E—roughly 1,200 miles west of Perth, Australia, in waters plunging to 13,000 feet. That’s a 40-nautical-mile radius, a fraction of the 46,000 square miles scoured in prior hunts. Godfrey claims his method tracked 48 Boeing 777 flights worldwide with pinpoint accuracy in blind tests, validated by AirlineRatings.com and a former Qantas captain.

The room erupted in a mix of applause and murmurs. For families like that of Li Eryou, whose 29-year-old son vanished on the flight, it was a gut punch of hope laced with exhaustion. “We’ve heard promises before,” Li told reporters afterward, his eyes red-rimmed. “But if this is real, it could give us bones to bury.” Cheng Liping, whose husband was returning from a film shoot in Malaysia, nodded grimly. “The pain never fades. We need truth, not more shadows.”

Godfrey’s journey to this moment is as improbable as the mystery itself. A founding member of the MH370 Independent Group—a loose collective of engineers, pilots, and data nerds formed in 2014—he’s poured seven years and countless hours into the case. By 2025, he’d authored nearly 60 papers on everything from drift models to military radar data, often self-funded and shared on forums like Duncan Steel’s and Victor Iannello’s sites. His big break? WSPR, a system dismissed by many as too noisy for forensics. Critics, including Nobel Prize-winning physicist Joe Taylor, its co-creator, have called it “nonsense” for tracking purposes, arguing the signals are too faint to distinguish aircraft from atmospheric interference. Yet Godfrey pressed on, correlating 130 signal disturbances from that fateful night with Inmarsat satellite pings—the cryptic “handshakes” that first suggested a southern crash.

This isn’t Godfrey’s first rodeo. Back in 2021, he made headlines with The Times, claiming his work was “the closest anyone has come” to solving the enigma. The Australian Transport Safety Bureau (ATSB) even name-checked him in its 2017 final report, calling him a “credible expert.” But skeptics abound. Jeff Wise, a U.S. journalist and fellow Independent Group alum, has labeled Godfrey a spreader of “misinformation,” accusing him of cherry-picking data to fit a preconceived narrative. “He’s influential, sure,” Wise wrote in a March 2025 podcast episode. “But influence without rigor just muddies the waters.”

The timing of Godfrey’s reveal couldn’t be more charged. Just weeks ago, on October 10, Malaysia’s Transport Minister Anthony Loke announced a resumption of searches by Ocean Infinity, the Texas-based firm that led a failed 2018 effort. Under a “no find, no fee” deal worth up to $70 million, the new hunt targets 15,000 square kilometers in the southern Indian Ocean—overlapping Godfrey’s coordinates but broader in scope. Operations kicked off in February 2025 but hit a snag in April due to “roaring forties” storms, with waves topping 10 meters. Loke, speaking to Reuters, vowed a return by year’s end: “We’re committed, but nature doesn’t negotiate.”

Godfrey’s intervention throws a wrench into that timeline. He alleges Malaysian authorities have dragged their feet, perhaps to avoid compensation payouts—estimated at billions if pilot error or negligence is confirmed. “They want this forgotten,” he told The Daily Star in March 2024, a sentiment echoed by aviation analyst Geoffrey Thomas. Godfrey’s theory implicates Captain Zaharie Ahmad Shah in a deliberate dive, aligning with simulator data from the pilot’s home showing a eerily similar path. “It was no accident,” Godfrey insists. “A high-speed impact to shatter the plane into oblivion.”

Flash back to that humid night in 2014. MH370 lifted off from Kuala Lumpur at 12:41 a.m., bound for Beijing with 227 passengers—mostly Chinese tourists—and 12 crew. At 1:19 a.m., the captain signed off with “Good night, Malaysian Three Seven Zero.” Then, silence. Radar showed a sharp U-turn west over the Malacca Strait, evading detection for hours. Military blips placed it near Penang, then vanishing into the Andaman Sea. Inmarsat’s seven pings suggested a ghostly seven-hour flight south, ending around dawn.

The initial response was chaos. Malaysia dithered for days, issuing conflicting statements while families rioted at Beijing’s airport. Australia led the charge, scanning 120,000 square kilometers at a cost exceeding $150 million. Debris—20 confirmed pieces—washed up on Réunion Island and Madagascar, confirming an ocean crash but mocking the search’s precision. Theories proliferated: hijacking by passengers? Cyberattack? Even a Diego Garcia landing at the U.S. base. Freescale Semiconductor’s 20 engineers aboard fueled espionage whispers, their stealth chip patents allegedly too valuable to lose.

Enter the human toll. Grace Nathan, whose mother boarded MH370 for a vacation, founded the Voice370 advocacy group. “Eleven years,” she said at a March 2025 remembrance in Putrajaya. “We’ve aged, our kids have grown without grandparents. This isn’t just a mystery—it’s a wound.” Chinese families, hit hardest, have staged annual vigils, demanding Beijing pressure Kuala Lumpur. In 2025, they met officials in Beijing, voicing fury over “online-only” updates.

Godfrey’s method, detailed in his January 2025 paper, hinges on WSPR’s global net of 10,000+ receivers. Planes, he argues, Doppler-shift these low-frequency signals like a finger plucking a guitar string. By reverse-engineering fades from March 8, 2014, he traces a path matching the “7th arc”—Inmarsat’s final ping at 8:19 a.m. A April 2025 guest post by Dr. Robert Westphal on Godfrey’s site addresses FAQs, defending the tech against YouTube skeptics. “We’ve detected flights blind,” Godfrey boasts. Petter Hörnfeldt’s March 2024 documentary “MH370: A New Hope” on Mentour Pilot channel spotlights his work, calling it a “new trace.”

But doubts linger like fog over the Malacca Strait. The ATSB’s 2022 statement praised Godfrey’s passion but stopped short of endorsement. Independent Group physicists, many ham radio pros, crunch the math and cry foul: “No way WSPR penetrates thousands of miles,” one Reddit thread blasts. Netflix’s 2023 docuseries snubbed him entirely, opting for flashier conspiracies. And then there’s Vincent Lyne, an Australian oceanographer pushing a rival theory: MH370 in the “Penang Longitude Deep Hole,” a trench too sheer for debris escape.

EgyptAir’s chief engineer, Ahmed Hammad, jumped in October 2025 with a compass-navigation model, claiming a deliberate off-autopilot evasion. “Fatal oversight,” he calls prior probes. Meanwhile, X (formerly Twitter) buzzes with Godfrey clips—posts from @roblagnac and @stsmith01 rack up views, hailing him as Nobel-worthy. Conspiracy corners, like @JustXAshton, pivot to Diego Garcia, citing Freescale’s “superconducting microchips.”

As Ocean Infinity’s AUVs—autonomous underwater vehicles—gear up, Godfrey urges a targeted dive. “Ignore this, and we’re back to square one,” he warns. Loke’s office, tight-lipped post-briefing, hints at review: “All credible leads are welcome.” Families hold breath; experts sharpen pencils. In aviation’s hall of ghosts, Godfrey’s data is the latest specter—compelling, contentious, and crying for verification.

The stakes? Closure for 239 lives. A reckoning for Malaysia Airlines, still reeling from twin tragedies (MH17 downed over Ukraine months later). And lessons for an industry where a plane can still slip the net. As Godfrey packed his charts, one reporter asked: “What if you’re wrong?” He paused, then smiled faintly. “Then we search again. That’s the point.”

But in the quiet aftermath, as rain lashed Kuala Lumpur’s streets, the real question hung heavier: After 3,951 days, is truth finally within reach—or just another mirage on the horizon?