“They wouldn’t let me sleep…” 😢🔥

For the first time since the nightmare, Swiss fire captain David Vocat breaks his silence after leading the first team into the blazing inferno at Le Constellation.

What he saw inside haunts him every night: Thick, choking smoke… burning plastic raining down… bodies piled high near the exits… young people collapsing just steps from freedom, eyes wide with terror.

Then… an unbearable, deafening silence as the screams faded. No more cries for help. Just the crackle of flames and the weight of lives lost forever.

“They wouldn’t let me sleep,” he said, voice cracking. The images won’t leave him—young faces frozen in panic, friends he couldn’t reach in time. How does a hero live with what he couldn’t stop?

This raw, heartbreaking testimony is shaking Switzerland to its core. Click to read his full words before they fade—share if you’ve ever wondered what first responders truly endure.

In his first public comments since commanding the initial rescue team into the flames at Le Constellation bar on New Year’s Eve 2025, local fire captain David Vocat has described a scene of unimaginable horror that continues to torment him: thick smoke, burning plastic, piles of young bodies near blocked exits, and then an “unbearable silence” as the chaos gave way to death.

The fire erupted shortly after 1:30 a.m. on January 1, 2026, during packed New Year’s celebrations at the basement-level nightclub in the upscale Valais ski resort. What began as a festive night for hundreds—many teenagers and young adults—turned deadly in minutes when sparklers on champagne bottles ignited highly flammable acoustic foam lining the low ceiling. The material burned fiercely, producing intense heat, melting droplets, and toxic gases including hydrogen cyanide and carbon monoxide. A rapid “flashover” engulfed the space, turning the enclosed area into a lethal furnace where survival chances plummeted.

Vocat, commander of the Crans-Montana fire department (ACCM), led the first responders who arrived within minutes amid reports of heavy smoke and screams. Speaking in interviews with outlets including Swiss television, Bluewin, and international media like The New York Times, he recounted entering the inferno: dense black smoke reduced visibility to near zero, the air thick with burning plastic and chemicals. “You cannot imagine seeing all those young people piled up in the bar, dead,” he told The New York Times. Bodies were stacked near staircases and exits—some collapsed just steps from escape, overcome by smoke and toxins before flames reached them fully.

The captain described the grim reality: patrons trampled or trapped as panic set in, many succumbing to inhalation before fire consumed them. “Smoke, burning plastic, piled up bodies, young people collapsing just steps from the exits,” he said. Then came the shift to silence: no more calls for help, only the crackle of flames and the weight of failure despite heroic efforts. “They wouldn’t let me sleep,” Vocat admitted, referring to the relentless replay of images in his mind—pleading eyes, frozen expressions, the faces of those he and his team couldn’t save.

The tragedy claimed at least 40 lives, with victims as young as 14 identified in the aftermath. More than 115 were injured, many critically, suffering severe burns, respiratory damage, and trauma. Hospitals across Valais and beyond were overwhelmed, with some survivors transferred to specialized burn units in Lausanne and Geneva. Autopsies confirmed that many died primarily from toxic gas exposure and smoke inhalation, with the pre-fire circulation of poisons (as noted in earlier toxicology reports) compounding the lethality.

Vocat’s emotional testimony highlights the psychological toll on first responders. In one Swiss TV appearance shortly after the blaze, he appeared tearful, saying, “I need them, and they need me,” referring to his colleagues as a “giant family” forged in shared trauma. He expressed doubts about continuing in the role: “I don’t know if I’ll be able to carry on.” During a commemorative march to the site days later, Vocat and his team were applauded by onlookers, yet he placed a teddy bear at the memorial—a quiet gesture amid profound grief.

Investigations have revealed multiple failures contributing to the scale of loss. The bar had not undergone a full fire safety inspection in five years, despite cantonal requirements for annual checks. Illegal renovations included combustible acoustic foam that accelerated spread and toxicity. Capacity limits were reportedly exceeded—advertised for up to 400 despite official allowances of 200—and emergency exits were allegedly obstructed or inadequate. Fire extinguishers were locked away, and smoke dampers in the ventilation system failed to contain fumes.

The owners, French couple Jacques and Jessica Moretti, faced questioning by prosecutors. Their lawyers condemned “lies” in media reports, including claims Jessica fled with cash; they insisted she stayed to aid the injured. Authorities charged the managers with negligence-related offenses, while local and cantonal officials admitted oversight lapses. A press conference highlighted systemic issues: no checks since 2019, ignored complaints, and lax enforcement in a tourist-dependent region.

Survivors shared parallel horrors. One young man described risking his life twice to pull burned friends out, gasping, “I couldn’t breathe!” Another called his escape “miraculous,” haunted by those left behind. Families searched desperately for missing loved ones, with some learning of comas or deaths days later. Vigils filled Crans-Montana streets: candles, flowers, handwritten notes, and minutes of silence honored the dead.

The incident ranks among Switzerland’s worst civilian disasters in decades, drawing comparisons to past nightclub fires where overcrowding, flammable materials, and poor exits proved fatal. President-level statements expressed national shock, with calls for stricter regulations and better inspections in alpine venues.

For Vocat and his team, the aftermath includes counseling and support amid ongoing grief. He emphasized solidarity: “All my thoughts are for the victims and their families. I am so sorry.” As Crans-Montana—a symbol of luxury and winter joy—grapples with scars, the captain’s words underscore a universal truth: first responders carry invisible burdens long after the flames die.

The probe continues, with forensic reviews of materials, exits, and potential criminal elements. For now, a nation mourns, and one fire captain speaks for many who witnessed the unimaginable.