Two U.S. Pilots CAPTURED During Routine Mission – Beg President Trump for Immediate Help

A fuel stop that should have taken 45 minutes has turned into a weeks-long prison ordeal for two American pilots, and the paperwork question at the center of it could change how private aviation treats “routine” international flying.

Quick Take

Two U.S. pilots, Fabio Espinal Nunez and Brad Schlenker, were detained in Conakry, Guinea on Dec. 30, 2025, after landing a Gulfstream IV to refuel.
The pilots say they received air traffic control clearance; Guinean authorities accuse them of an unauthorized landing and a violation of sovereignty.
Families describe an armed airport confrontation, harsh detention conditions, and court actions allegedly blocked by the military.
The case spotlights a hard truth of flying into unstable regimes: civil approvals can evaporate when security forces decide otherwise.

A Routine Gulfstream Refuel That Triggered an Armed Detention

Fabio Espinal Nunez, 33, and Brad Schlenker, 63, landed at Ahmed Sékou Touré International Airport in Conakry on December 30, 2025, expecting nothing more dramatic than fuel, paperwork, and a quick departure. They were operating a Gulfstream IV charter carrying a Brazilian family from Suriname to Dubai. Instead, they say roughly 100 soldiers met the aircraft, searched it, and detained them on the tarmac over accusations tied to authorization and sovereignty.

The disagreement pivots on a distinction that sounds trivial until you’re the one in handcuffs: air traffic control clearance versus a separate landing permit. The pilots maintain they received clearance multiple times while en route and that radio transcripts exist. Reports also describe a local handler who was supposed to manage permits and logistics. Guinea, for its part, has treated the landing as unauthorized. Without publicly released Guinean documentation, the public sees a foggy bureaucratic dispute with life-altering consequences.

How Guinea’s Post-Coup Power Structure Warps “Normal” Legal Process

Guinea has lived under heightened political volatility since the 2021 coup, and that context matters because aviation is never just aviation at a military-controlled airport. Multiple accounts describe the pilots spending about ten days in a police station before transfer into Conakry’s prison system. Families have also described court progress that appears to stall when security forces refuse to comply. When a country’s civil judiciary cannot reliably overrule the armed services, “due process” becomes more slogan than safeguard.

The U.S. government’s role also has hard limits. Consular officials can visit, check welfare, and provide lists of attorneys, but they cannot order a foreign prison to open its doors. That reality frustrates families who believe this detention is illegitimate and who have urged stronger intervention. From a conservative, common-sense view, the lesson is painfully practical: Americans abroad can become leverage in a system that treats procedure as optional, and only decisive diplomacy tends to move the needle.

Life Inside Conakry Prison: Calls Home, Dirt Floors, and Uncertainty

Families have described conditions that sound like a time machine: overcrowding, dirt floors, and survival relying partly on outside support for food and basic supplies. Schlenker’s relatives have said daily calls are sometimes possible, a privilege they attribute to the men being Americans, not to the prison being humane. That detail cuts two ways. It shows the pilots have not vanished into silence, but it also underscores the imbalance: small mercies depend on status, not standards.

Reports also mention gunfire near the central prison on February 10, 2026, described as possibly connected to a failed break or an inmate transfer, with key details unconfirmed by officials. Even if unrelated to the pilots, the proximity matters because it signals instability around a facility already operating under strain. Families pushing for urgency aren’t indulging paranoia; they are responding to the basic risk that a chaotic environment turns bad situations into irreversible ones fast.

The Aviation Lesson Most Travelers Never Hear: Clearances Aren’t Permissions

Business aviation lives on checklists, flight plans, handlers, and layered approvals that usually mesh smoothly—until they don’t. The Guinea case reads like a textbook example of how “I was cleared to land” can collide with “you lacked the permit,” especially when a local agent sits between crew and authorities. Pilots and operators may interpret the system as unified; some states enforce it as a patchwork, and the patch that matters is the one held by the armed man on the ramp.

For operators, the sober takeaway is not to grandstand but to tighten discipline: confirm landing permits in writing, verify handler competence, and treat politically unstable destinations as legal minefields even for simple refueling. For policymakers, the question is equally blunt: what is the U.S. prepared to do when Americans appear caught in a foreign system where courts can be ignored? Families have publicly appealed up the chain, including direct pleas to President Trump, because they believe quiet channels have not produced results.

They need your help @POTUS
Two U.S. Pilots ILLEGALLY ARRESTED in West Africa During Routine Fuel Stop Beg President Trump for Immediate Help | The Gateway Pundit | by Jim Hᴏft https://t.co/3PLVJqZnYL

— Fleabug (@MFleabug) February 19, 2026

The facts available so far leave unresolved issues: whether a specific permit was missing, whether ATC clearance was enough under Guinean rules, and who made the call to escalate to detention. Still, the outline is clear enough to alarm any frequent traveler over 40 who thinks “routine” equals “safe.” It doesn’t. The pilots’ ordeal is a reminder that sovereignty disputes can swallow ordinary people, and that the only predictable thing in an unpredictable regime is that you won’t get the benefit of the doubt.