Sunday, April 5, 2015. Oh God, I Thought, As The Small Plane Took Off — I Don’t Want To Do This.
My Mind Kept Wandering Back To My Two Babies Waiting At Home: April, Aged Almost Three, And Ben Who Was Just Five Weeks Old. I Shouldn’t Be Here; I Should Be With Them.
The Parachute Jump Had Been My Husband Emile’s Idea. Something We Could Do Together, He Said, Which Was Mainly Why I’d Agreed. But In The End, He Hadn’t Been Able To Join Me Because He Couldn’t Find Anyone To Look After The Children.
I’d Done Thousands Of Jumps Before, So Why This Overwhelming Sense Of Dread? Why The Bubbling Nerves, The Nausea, The Tears Welling In The Corners Of My Eyes?
After The Plane Reached 3,000ft, I Clambered To The Open Door Near The Tail. The Jumper In Front Of Me Leapt And Disappeared Into The Clouds. Just Get On With It, I Told Myself. Then You Can Go Home.
I Jumped. The Cold Air Hit My Face And Immediately I Felt Calm. I Know What I’m Doing, I Thought, Letting Relief Wash Over Me. With My Right Hand, I Deployed The Parachute.
Victoria and her husband Emile went parachuting together in 2011. It was a frequent activity for the couple.
There was an uneven jolt. That’s strange, I pondered, looking up. I was startled to find the lines securing me to the parachute were twisted.
But I knew the drill: I kicked through the air in a circular motion, deftly untangling the ropes. As they loosened, a brief sense of relief washed over me, swiftly replaced by dread.
Still, I wasn’t slowing down. It didn’t add up: no matter my efforts, I couldn’t quell the violent rotation.
With the ground rushing closer, I quickly detached the main parachute and deployed the backup, bracing for impact. Yet, it never arrived.
The reserve only partially inflated — now I spun wildly through the sky, nearly upside down.
Kicking my legs against the wind, I fought to free the twisted lines. Thank goodness — they’re starting to straighten out, I thought, gradually righting myself.
But my relief was fleeting: once the lines had untangled, the spinning intensified.
This couldn’t be real! As a seasoned parachutist, I knew the odds of both parachutes failing were astronomical. Yet, the notion that someone had intentionally sabotaged them never crossed my mind.
Captured alongside her spouse, Sergeant Emile Cilliers, who attempted to end her life through parachute sabotage.
As the ground drew nearer, I summoned every ounce of courage, determined to survive. “I must make it through,” I repeated, grappling with the dire situation. My children depended on me; failure was not an option.
In my mid-thirties, fate intertwined my path with the man who would later betray me. It was the winter of 2009 when I encountered Emile in my role as a physiotherapist at an Army base in Larkhill, Wiltshire. He hobbled into my treatment room, nursing a severe knee injury sustained during a skiing expedition.
Our initial conversation revolved around skiing, a sport he was unfamiliar with. I likened it to the sensation of skydiving, a realm where I found solace and freedom. Intrigued, Emile absorbed my anecdotes about the parachute center where I spent my weekends instructing free-fall techniques.
Despite my professional engagement, my personal life felt hollow. I had envisioned starting a family by now, but my marriage to an Army troop commander had crumbled due to his infidelities.
As Emile continued his rehabilitation sessions, a subtle connection began to burgeon between us. His piercing blue eyes and unwavering commitment to his career captivated me. He aspired to join the Royal Army Physical Training Corps, demonstrating diligence even in recovery from his injury. He openly shared details of his past, including his previous marriage and two children.
Our initial date took us to Wales for an aerial assault course, where we reveled in each other’s company amidst the treetops. Our relationship swiftly deepened, with evenings spent in heartfelt conversation at my home. Emile’s intense affection overwhelmed me; his declaration of love mere weeks into our courtship left me enamored. His attentiveness stood in stark contrast to my distant ex-husband, consumed by his military duties.
Emile soon became a permanent fixture in my life, moving into my home. In hindsight, I questioned my naiveté and unchecked trust. Moments of discomfort arose, especially when he disparaged his ex-wife, Carly, labeling her as lazy and devoid of ambition.
A pivotal moment arrived when Carly, during a visit to vet me before allowing her children to stay over, disclosed the existence of additional offspring, shattering any illusion of the life I thought I knew.
In 2020, Victoria reflected on the harrowing experience of surviving her parachute jump. “As the ground loomed ever closer, I forced myself to push fear from my mind,” she recounted.
The revelation left me feeling queasy. Emile had two more children from a previous relationship, but his girlfriend denied him access to them. The realization that he had kept this from me felt almost unbearable.
Confronting Emile, he sprang from the sofa, visibly shaken. “I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he stammered, his voice trembling, on the verge of tears.
“I’m not sure I can continue in a relationship built on dishonesty,” I confessed, pacing the living room with unease. “I’ve already left one marriage filled with deceit.”
“I was going to tell you, I swear. I’m truly sorry. I don’t want to lose you,” he pleaded.
“Fine,” I relented, “but honesty must be our foundation moving forward.” From then on, Emile’s older children were scarcely mentioned. Despite my lingering concerns about his apparent disregard for them, my happiness outweighed any lingering doubts.
Emile’s gestures of affection were plentiful—cooking meals, showering me with love, and leaving endearing notes scattered throughout the house. “I love you so much, have a great day,” read a Post-it note on the kitchen cupboard, with another note inside proclaiming, “Still love you!”
Trusting him implicitly, we opened a joint bank account. I helped him clear his £2,000 debt and taught him how to pack parachutes. Soon, he earned enough at a local airfield to repay every penny.
In 2011, he took me to meet his parents in South Africa, his place of origin. Over breakfast, his mother effused, “Emile has never spoken about anyone the way he speaks about you. He truly loves you.”
During a visit to a cheetah sanctuary, just before we departed, Emile surprised me with a proposal. Grasping my hand, he dropped to one knee, a diamond ring adorning the collar of a cheetah. “Will you marry me?” he asked, eyes filled with anticipation.
Overwhelmed with joy, I accepted, tears of happiness threatening to spill. At long last, I believed I was on the brink of a happily-ever-after marriage.
Ms. Cilliers is currently hospitalized, wearing a chest brace, as a result of her husband’s attempted murder.
Several months prior to their scheduled wedding, both individuals were filled with joy upon learning of the pregnancy. However, tragedy struck during a trip to London for Emile’s cricket match when Ms. Cilliers began experiencing a miscarriage. Despite her plea to return home, Emile insisted on staying, leaving her to endure the pain alone in their hotel room.
Six weeks later, they returned to South Africa to tie the knot, with Ms. Cilliers once again pregnant, believing life couldn’t be more perfect. Despite initial happiness, discrepancies in their joint account arose, with unauthorized purchases surfacing, leading to suspicions directed at Emile. Despite his denials and excuses, financial problems persisted, exacerbating the strain in their relationship.
Further doubts emerged when messages from a sex club and a woman appeared on Emile’s email account, met with implausible explanations and accusations of paranoia from Emile. Despite attempts to dismiss concerns, Emile’s behavior continued to fuel suspicion, including being caught with a Tinder match on his phone.
As tensions escalated, Emile increasingly distanced himself from home, culminating in a drastic change in demeanor upon his return just days before Christmas.
Emile and Victoria stood side by side on their wedding day in South Africa, but amidst the celebration, Victoria couldn’t shake off the feeling of being neglected. Emile seemed more engrossed in his phone than in their special day, and Victoria realized she knew little about her husband’s life anymore.
When Christmas arrived, Victoria received no gift from Emile, who claimed it never arrived, then promptly announced a work trip to Germany. Despite her doubts, Victoria, seven months pregnant, felt too weak to confront him. Upon his return, she mustered the courage to ask about infidelity, only to receive a denial and a chilling remark about reconsidering their relationship after the baby’s birth.
With mounting concerns, Victoria discovered Emile’s plans for a military diving trip and his intention to bring a girlfriend. Feeling trapped, she resolved to wait until after the pregnancy to address the issues. But as time passed, she found herself in a downward spiral, questioning her worth and unable to recognize the woman she had become.
Despite her turmoil, Victoria decided to give Emile another chance, clinging to the hope that things could improve. Yet, troubling incidents persisted, including a near-fatal gas leak at home, which she initially dismissed as an accident but later questioned.
As weeks turned into months, Victoria endured Emile’s volatile behavior, finding solace only in brief moments of tenderness. When Emile suggested they go skydiving together, Victoria dared to believe that their relationship might have a chance at redemption. However, her intuition warned her against it, yet she felt compelled to proceed, convinced by Emile’s assurances and seeming concern.
As Victoria plummeted through the sky, her parachute malfunctioned, and she plummeted toward the ground, her life hanging in the balance.
This account, adapted from Victoria Cilliers’ memoir “I Survived,” captures the harrowing journey of a woman navigating a tumultuous marriage, clinging to hope amid uncertainty and danger.
