On the evening of February 3, 2026, off the coast of Mersini, Chios (eastern Aegean Sea), an encounter between a Coast Guard vessel and a speedboat carrying migrants ended in tragedy. The toll stands at 15 dead and dozens injured. According to reports, 14 bodies were recovered from the sea, and one woman was later taken to the hospital with serious head injuries. In addition to the dead, the other injured included 25 people, including seven men, seven women, and 11 minors, who were all taken to Skylitseio Hospital. Later, one of the women died. Two of the women were pregnant and lost their babies after the injury.

What happened was recounted in two narratives. the first being the official version of the Hellenic Coast Guard, which speaks of an interception operation in which the operator of the speedboat failed to comply, accelerated, and caused a violent collision with dangerous maneuvers, shifting the burden of responsibility to the “trafficker” and the criminal prosecutions that followed; on the other hand, the allegations emerging from testimonies, defense attorneys, and critical interventions insist that even if there is criminal liability on the part of a third party, the state is not exempt from its obligation to explain proportionality, rules of engagement, and operational safety.

The case in public debate did not focus solely on the victims; it also focused on the gaps in the story itself. Most importantly, the material that could provide an irrefutable sequence of events is missing. The two cameras on the Coast Guard vessel that “could have recorded every minute” were not activated at the time of the collision, despite initial reports that video footage would be released. there is no recording, and this pattern is consistent with previous major incidents where the investigation proceeded without documentation. Specifically, the vessel is equipped with thermal cameras for night observation and recording, which are used to record operations, both for the safety of the crew and to inform Frontex and the EU about the tactics of traffickers. Nikos Spanos, retired Admiral of the Hellenic Coast Guard, clearly stated that “when any operation is carried out, the cameras must be on. There is no question about it, this is the rule,” in statements made to us by a senior coast guard official regarding the incident, he claimed that there is institutional ambiguity surrounding their use and that, unless there is a horizontal order, they are not bound by operational protocols, something that Mr. Spanos rejected, emphasizing that such a practice (closed cameras) is against the rules.

At the political level, the explanation is once again left to discretion. Government spokesman Pavlos Marinakis reportedly stated that the use of a thermal camera by the captain was “not deemed necessary,” arguing that the boat had already been located from land, while emphasizing that thermal imaging is not a “means of recording events” but a tracking tool in combination with radar. The problem is that the public debate is not only about whether the speedboat was located, but how the operation unfolded, and that is where documentation is a prerequisite for accountability. On the other hand, in shallow legalistic arguments, the Minister of Migration and Asylum, Thanos Plevris, said, “Let someone come out and say that there is a regulation in the Coast Guard for 24-hour recording of events.” In other words, the official government line maintains that activation is at the discretion of the crew on a case-by-case basis, rather than an explicit legal obligation, placing issues of the rule of law in the hands of individual officials, with no room for verification. 

The official version, as established, attributes the collision to the actions of the operator of the immigrant’s boat. According to a statement by the coast guard, the collision occurred after the speedboat, which had its navigation lights off, ignored signals from the patrol vessel and changed course. The boat capsized due to the force of the impact, sending its passengers into the sea. It claims that the operator failed to comply with signals, accelerated, made a dangerous maneuver, and caused a violent collision. At the same time, the alleged smuggler, a Moroccan national, faces serious charges (causing a shipwreck, illegal transportation resulting in deaths). However, even if the trafficker bears criminal responsibility, state responsibility does not disappear because there is a “culprit” in the picture. Under international maritime law and the case law of the ECHR (European Court of Human Rights), states are required to apply rules of engagement that prioritize human life and avoid enforcement tactics that create a lethal risk in maritime operations. In an “asymmetrical” situation, a heavily armed, steel vessel against a small, overloaded speedboat at night, the collision cannot be interpreted as an “accident,” but as an event that in itself requires rigorous investigation (has been announced) for proportionality, necessity, and safety.

At the same time, criminal targeting is shifting rapidly. The alleged trafficker, a Moroccan national, faces serious charges of causing a shipwreck and illegal transportation resulting in the deaths of 15 people. However, statements by defense attorneys are opening cracks in the official narrative. Lawyer Dimitris Choulis appeared outside the Chios courthouse holding a USB stick, publicly stating that it contained video footage of a boat being rammed by the Coast Guard in another case, calling on the media to show it so that they could “see how these practices are carried out.”

Along with the other lawyer, Alexis Georgoulis, he argued that six witnesses did not recognize the defendant as the perpetrator, that one of the initial identifications was recanted, and that a key witness who identified him left the island within a day, which, as he noted, “has never happened before.” At the same time, all the witnesses who testified reportedly stated that there was no warning, no signal, no light or beacon, but only a collision from the Coast Guard vessel.

 

In statements made to us by a senior Coast Guard official, he admits that even if the scenario of “dangerous maneuvers” by the boat, it remains a matter of handling by the crew, as a small boat cannot realistically “sink” or cause serious damage to an 8-ton vessel, even one considered to be a pursuit vessel, in the event of a collision. This raises the question of why it was not avoided. The same executive points out technical ambiguities regarding the angle of approach and “blind spots,” as well as the fact that a crew member had been assigned just two days earlier, a factor which—without proving liability—affects operational composure. The forensic aspect adds weight to the questions, as examinations showed that the deaths were not caused by drowning when the boat capsized, but by severe traumatic brain injuries, a factor that is “directly linked” to the collision.

In the field of rhetoric, the “shifting of responsibility” becomes a second event, parallel to the shipwreck. The Hellenic League for Human Rights, as presented, points out that public discourse has developed that targets the victims and places responsibility solely on the traffickers, downplaying the authorities’ obligation to protect life without exception. At the same time, the government spokesperson described the comparison between Chios and Pylos as “out of place and out of time.” But the problem with the comparison is not the identification of the cases; it is the repetition of patterns: the failure to understand the chain of events, the lack of recorded material, and the institutional defense before the completion of an independent investigation.

The Minister of Health, Adonis Georgiadis, also joined in, posting that NGO members showed up “uninvited” at a surgical clinic and, according to him, “interfered” with the work of doctors. Health Minister Adonis Georgiadis complained in a post that NGO members showed up “uninvited” at a surgical clinic and, according to management, were guiding a migrant family with the possible aim of “shape the narrative” or “file complaints against the Coast Guard,” adding that the incident was reported to the National Intelligence Sercive (ΕΥΠ). The function of such complaints in public discourse is twofold: if they are true, they may indeed concern a violation of hospital rules, but they may also serve as a counterbalance to the pressure for transparency, shifting the discussion from operational action to “who is manipulating whom.” This complaint cannot be viewed in isolation from the political past of the minister himself, who has repeatedly expressed extreme right-wing and anti-immigration views, making his intervention politically charged. At the same time, hospital circles deny the content of the complaint, while the presence of legal or advisory bodies of non-profit organizations alongside immigrants does not violate any legislation and falls within the scope of legal support.

Synopsis (EN): In this post, Health Minister Adonis Georgiadis says a Chios hospital administrator reported that NGO members entered a surgical ward uninvited, allegedly posed as interpreters, and—according to the administration—coached a migrant family in ways that could shape asylum claims or complaints against the Coast Guard. He says those involved were removed and the incident was reported to Greece’s intelligence service (EYP).

The rhetoric of “it was not deemed necessary” is the most convenient phrase a state can use when it does not want to be held accountable, as it is not easily refuted or proven. It is administrative dust on an incident that already smelled of death, and when an operation results in fifteen deaths, the absence of a record is not a technical detail — it is a political condition, it determines who will speak, who will be questioned, who will remain forever a “possible perpetrator,” and who will have become “definitely” guilty in the 7 a.m. news reports. 

If there is a real dilemma here, and even if national/European “borders” and securitization and “humanitarianism” are not the case here, then it is between power without documentation and the rule of law, and, at this point, there is no room to tolerate the former. Not after the country’s multiple international condemnations for fatal incidents and investigative shortcomings, from Farmakonisi to Pylos; not when independent authorities and control institutions, such as the Ombudsman, are often treated as a “nuisance” rather than as institutional safeguards. In such a context, every “not recorded” is not just a blank space, it is a red flag for democratic deviations and the degradation of the rule of law.

The sea is a place where asymmetry is the norm, so accountability must be even stricter. When the authorities say that the camera was not turned on because it was not necessary, in practice they are asking society to accept that, at the most critical moment, the narrative of the powerful is sufficient. And when public debate shifts to “NGOs,” “foreign interests,” and “smugglers” before a truly independent investigation has even been completed, we have a prejudgment. Every death in operational contact with the state must be examined down to the last second, not interpreted after the fact. If the investigation is left without data, without full access, and without independence, then the shipwreck is not only maritime, it is institutional.

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