Thibault Jonckheere was present in the second metro car during the terrorist attack that took place at Maelbeek station on March 22, 2016, at 9:10 a.m. He miraculously survived the attack, but it left behind deep neurological scars, guilt, and trauma due to the loss of 16 people who were present in the same car as him. During his testimony in front of the Assize Court, Jonckheere expressed his gratitude to those 16 people who lost their lives, acknowledging that without their presence, he wouldn’t be alive. He believes that those people standing in his way is what saved him from the attack.
Jonckheere further explained that his quick reaction and folded position is what saved him from death. He explained that when the explosion occurred, he was bending over, holding his mobile phone, which was about to fall, and because of that, he was even more bent to the ground, which probably saved him.
Jonckheere had dropped his car off at Herrmann-Debroux and was in the second metro car on line 5 when the bombs went off. The passengers were discussing the bombings at Zaventem, and the lively conversations were prevalent in the car.
After the attack, Jonckheere experienced a searing headache, followed by breathing difficulties due to the unbreathable smell of chemicals, which made him feel like he was level -3 with a 25-story building collapsed on top of him. However, with the hope of being alive for his family, Jonckheere managed to move his feet and memory to breathe.
Jonckheere claims that he suffers from guilt because he could not save the people sitting next to him. He could not stop himself from crawling to the bathroom and discovering himself in a disfigured state with no eyebrows and severe burns.
Since the attack, Jonckheere has experienced debilitating headaches, limiting his activities and reducing his quality of life. Despite being angry at those responsible, Jonckheere holds no malice towards the ethnic and religious communities.
Life hangs by a thread. A fortiori when, like Thibault Jonckheere, one was, on March 22, 2016 at 9:10 a.m., in the second metro car where a terrorist blew himself up at Maelbeek station. Thibault Jonckheere is a miracle. He had his life saved. But he still has terrible neurological scars, a deep sense of guilt and the painful feeling of having escaped certain death because other people, who are no longer there, were between him and the bomb.
It is to these 16 people who died in the attack that this man, now 53, first wanted to pay tribute, during his testimony before the Assize Court which judges the attacks: “I will never forget them. Without their presence, I would no longer be here”. He is convinced:It was the rows of seats and those 16 people who stood in the way and preserved my life”.
“You have insulted the Koran”: strong tensions at the trial of the attacks in Brussels, the hearing briefly suspended
He also owes, he says, being alive to his position on the seat. “I am alive thanks to the fact that I was bent over during the explosion, with a mobile phone about to fall and for which I was even more bent down to the ground”.
On March 22, 2016, he had dropped off his car at Herrmann-Debroux, the first station on line 5. He had taken his place in the second car. They were three. He had learned on the radio that bombs had exploded in Zaventem. “In all my life, I had never known such a lively subway car. The passengers were talking to each other. They were talking about Zaventem.”
A searing headache
Arrived in Maelbeek, “I am completely plunged into darkness. I wonder if I’m dead or alive. I feel like my ears are disconnected”. And there arises, he continues, “the first miracle: a dazzling headache. It is thanks to this that I am alive”. He is convinced that the help will arrive too late and that he must get out of it alone. He feels like he’s at thelevel -3 with a 25 story building collapsed on top of me”.
“At home, everyone cries in their corner so as not to make the other cry”: at the trial of the Brussels attacks, families devastated forever
“The second miracle arrives. I can finally breathe”. At this point, Thibault Jonckheere mimes panting. It is “like a diver who, after a too long apnea, comes back to himself”. The worry does not go away. There is this “unbreathable smell of foul chemicals”. And he tells himself that, if he inhales it for too long, he will “and rest”.
It is the thought of his companion and his two children that gives him strength. “I tell myself : ‘Fight ! come back to you for those three!’ Without them, without my thoughts for them, I would have stayed in Maelbeek. I owe them my life”.
And it is “the third miracle” : he can move his feet”like windshield wipers”. And the “fourth miracle”. He can open his eyes: “I can never tell you what car two looked like. Words don’t exist to describe the interior. For me, at this moment, car two is Hiroshima and Nagasaki together”.
A terrible guilt
More “the human body is well made. Everything is automatic”. With both feet, he turns over the rubble. He searches for the two bodies of the people who were seated around him. He can’t find them. “And there is a dramatic decision to make, the hardest of my life”, says this man who specifies that, as a seasoned mountaineer, he has participated in dozens of mountain rescues. “That day, I couldn’t do anything. And I still suffer from it. If I had stayed, I could have helped a victim, freed them, helped them survive or lessened their injuries”.
Trial of the Brussels attacks: “I no longer love the world in which I survive”
He takes a step. There is a flame 80 cm high. He does not know: these are the remains of the bomb. He sees two feet sticking out. He releases them. He removes a metal plate that covers a face. For six months, he will be plagued by guilt for this woman he partially freed and the one who was next to him. Six months later, he will learn from the investigating judges that they survived.
The survivors go up the stairs. After four steps, Thibault Jonckheere is too weak. A line forms behind him. One person helps him, a second, seven in total. “Something crazy is going on. It’s called humanity. We are in Maelbeek. March 22, 2016. It must be 9:20 a.m. Seven passengers, who until then had been haggard, staring at their feet without having the strength to raise their heads, will have the courage to look me in the eye. Seven passengers will straighten up. They took the time to stop not running away.”
On the mezzanine is a woman with “a big smile telling me ‘Sir, can I help you’. Without her I could not have reached the rue de la Loi”. It is then the Brugmann hospital, where he is refused a mirror. At 8:30 p.m., when everyone has left, he crawls to the bathroom, looks up at the sink. He looks at himself. “You take 900 pigs. You take the ugliest. It’s me”. Burned, he no longer had eyelashes, eyebrows or hair.
Anger against insurance
He experiences violent and permanent headaches, which handicap him, reduce his nights and have forced him to reduce his activities. It’s a “mal invisible”. He is angry with the insurance companies, who do not want to recognize him, supported by their doctors who “like mercenaries on a mission to pay as little as possible”.
He does not understand the terrorists against whom he is also angry. “I did not commit any fault. I will never understand this act of March 22. There were other means than detonating bombs. They screwed up my life. I will never forgive them. I will never forgive those who made my partner and my children cry. I passed there by chance. I took this hatred in the face. I was taken responsible when I could possibly have understood”.
Thibault Jonckheere’s story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Though he survived the terrorist attack at Maelbeek station on March 22, 2016, he still carries the scars, both physical and psychological, of that fateful day. But he is not alone. The memory of the 16 people who lost their lives in the attack will always be with him, and he has found strength and comfort in the support of his loved ones and the kindness of strangers. Thibault’s story reminds us that in the face of tragedy, we must hold onto hope and the goodness of humanity, and that life, no matter how fragile, is always worth fighting for.