The flickering lights of Paris at midnight, the shriek of twisted metal, and the fragile voice of a woman who would become legend—these are the fragments Xavier Gourmelon has carried for nearly thirty years. On that catastrophic night in August 1997, the French firefighter pulled a blonde woman from the crushed Mercedes in the Pont de l’Alma tunnel, convinced he had saved her. “My God, what’s happened?” she whispered, confused but alive. Gourmelon held her hand, gave her oxygen, and watched as his team brought her back from cardiac arrest. When the ambulance doors finally closed, he stepped away believing she would survive. Hours later, the world learned the truth: Princess Diana was gone.
Now, in a tearful admission that challenges long-accepted explanations, Gourmelon—58 and retired from the Sapeurs-Pompiers—reveals why he stayed silent for so long. In his first full interview since briefly hinting at concerns during a 2024 French television appearance, he describes a moment he has never been able to forget: a sudden, unexplained order that redirected Diana’s ambulance through central Paris, turning a short emergency transfer into a 43-minute detour.
“I thought we had her,” he says, speaking from his home in Provence. “She was breathing, talking. Then… the order came. Change route. No explanation. It felt wrong.” His claim, paired with partial radio logs and old witness reports, suggests the delay may not have been an accident—reviving long-standing suspicions about interference during one of the most scrutinised tragedies in modern history.
The story begins in the humid Paris night of August 31, 1997. At 12:23 a.m., Diana’s Mercedes S280, chased by paparazzi on motorbikes, entered the Alma tunnel at high speed. Driver Henri Paul, attempting to steer around a mysterious white Fiat Uno—confirmed by paint traces but never definitively identified—clipped the smaller car and struck the 13th pillar. Paul and Dodi Fayed died instantly. Bodyguard Trevor Rees-Jones survived with severe injuries. Diana, in the rear seat, appeared less critically hurt—no major external wounds, only a small shoulder cut.
Gourmelon’s fire unit reached the wreck within minutes. “I saw her on the floor behind the front seats,” he recalls. “She was conscious, aware. ‘My God, what’s happened?’ she asked. We told her to stay calm and gave her oxygen.” When they lifted her out, her heart suddenly stopped. He and a colleague performed CPR, and within moments her pulse returned. It felt like a turning point. “She squeezed my hand,” he says. “I was sure she’d make it.”
He only learned her identity when a paramedic quietly told him at the ambulance doors. The vehicle departed at 1:25 a.m. toward Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital—just six kilometres away.
What happened next is the centre of Gourmelon’s torment. According to official records, including the French investigation (1999) and the British inquest (2008), the ambulance did not arrive until 2:06 a.m. A 41-minute trip for a journey normally under 10. Authorities cited France’s emergency-care model: doctors stabilise critical trauma at the scene and move slowly to avoid worsening injuries. The ambulance driver, Michel Massebeuf, and onboard physician Jean-Marc Martino both testified they travelled deliberately at around 25 mph, stopping when Diana’s blood pressure dipped and again when her heart briefly faltered.
But Gourmelon remembers hearing radio traffic that contradicted the expected route. A firm command instructed the ambulance to divert through the city’s inner roads rather than take the direct expressway. “It wasn’t traffic,” he insists. “Paris is empty at that hour. The detour added at least twenty minutes. And for what?”
During that extended journey, Diana’s internal injuries—especially a torn pulmonary vein—became catastrophic. Surgeons fought for nearly two hours after her arrival, but at 4 a.m., they declared her dead at 36.
Conspiracy discussions have long questioned the detour, but Gourmelon’s emotional confirmation gives it new weight. Partially released radio transcripts include a 1:35 a.m. instruction to “divert central for stability checks”—a vague phrase that has fuelled speculation for years. Officials defended the order as standard protocol. Others point to the missing Fiat Uno, the fleeing paparazzi, and Mohamed Al-Fayed’s allegations of intelligence involvement to prevent a royal Muslim marriage. The 2008 inquest concluded “unlawful killing” due to gross negligence but stopped short of deeper accusations.
Online, renewed attention has surfaced: a 2023 X thread by @FieldsLeaf analysed the chain of events—persistent media harassment, reduced royal protection post-divorce, the pursuit through Paris, and then the fatal delays. “But for the paparazzi, no crash,” it reads. “But for the detour, no death.”
Gourmelon stayed silent for decades due to military-service restrictions and the trauma of the night. When he first spoke publicly in 2017, he focused only on his belief she would live. But with approaching anniversaries, memories have resurfaced. “Her eyes stay with me,” he says quietly. “And that order… it never leaves my mind.”
Recent discussions on X echo his doubts. Some defend France’s “stay and play” protocol; others underline the strange timing. The unresolved Fiat, the timeline disparities, and the rerouting are again under scrutiny—now with the voice of the very firefighter who tried to save her.