In the quiet town of Lutry, southwestern Switzerland, a grieving mother stood before a small crowd at the Temple de Lutry on January 8, 2026, clutching a white teddy bear and a red rose—symbols of her son’s beloved soccer team colors. Laetitia Brodard-Sitre had come to bury her 16-year-old son, Arthur Brodard, one of the youngest victims of the devastating New Year’s Eve fire at Le Constellation bar in the Crans-Montana ski resort. What should have been a final farewell filled with memories of a kind, responsible teenager instead became a moment of raw heartbreak as she revealed a painful truth that had haunted her since the tragedy unfolded.

Arthur, a promising young footballer from Lutry Football Club, had gone out with friends to celebrate the arrival of 2026. Just before midnight on December 31, 2025, he sent his mother a tender message: “Happy New Year, I love you, Mom.” Minutes later, a sparkler attached to a champagne bottle ignited a ferocious blaze that spread rapidly through the crowded venue. The fire claimed 40 lives—many of them teenagers—and left over 100 others injured, some fighting for survival in hospitals. Among the dead were seven members of Arthur’s soccer club, a devastating blow to the tight-knit community.

For over 40 agonizing hours, Laetitia refused to give up hope. She posted pleas on social media, provided DNA samples, and pored over horrific images in a desperate bid to identify her boy. When confirmation finally came that Arthur was among the victims—identified through advanced DNA and dental records due to the severe burns—she announced on Facebook: “Our Arthur has now left to party in paradise.” Yet the pain did not end there.

At the funeral, surrounded by teammates who had come to mourn their friend, Laetitia spoke openly about her anguish. While awaiting the results of DNA testing and the return of her son’s body, she felt a deep sense of injustice. “I feel they are not doing what the families want,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. The words echoed the frustration shared by many bereaved relatives, who have questioned the handling of the aftermath—from delays in identification to broader concerns over safety measures at the bar. Some families have already filed legal complaints against those responsible, seeking answers about how such a preventable disaster could occur in a popular resort venue.

The fire, believed to have started from party fireworks or sparklers, exposed critical lapses in fire safety protocols. Witnesses described chaos as flames engulfed the bar, with people smashing windows and using tables as shields in a frantic escape. Survivors recounted near-miraculous tales of survival, but for families like Laetitia’s, the loss remains irreversible.

Arthur was remembered as a gentle, caring boy who loved soccer and his friends. His teammates carried his memory forward, laying him to rest amid tears and tributes. As Switzerland grapples with this national tragedy, Laetitia’s words at the funeral serve as a stark reminder: behind every statistic lies unimaginable grief, compounded when families feel unheard in their quest for closure and accountability. The road to healing will be long, but the love for Arthur—and the demand for truth—endures.