The Swiss authorities and the public have been left stunned after a veteran firefighter from the Valais Cantonal Fire Service released three previously unseen 15-minute videos he personally recorded with a helmet-mounted body camera during the catastrophic New Year’s Eve fire at Le Constellation bar on January 1. The footage, which the firefighter says was “never meant to be public,” has now been handed over to investigators and simultaneously shared online, providing the most visceral and disturbing glimpse yet into the final minutes inside the burning venue.

The firefighter, who has chosen to remain anonymous but is known to colleagues as a 22-year veteran of high-risk rescues, stated in a short accompanying message: “I carried this camera for 20 years. I’ve never shared anything like this before. But after seeing the families still waiting for answers, I felt they deserved to see what it was really like in there. The first clip is especially devastating.”

The first 15-minute clip — already being described as one of the most harrowing pieces of real-time disaster footage ever made public — begins approximately 1:28 a.m., just before the flashover. The camera shows the firefighter moving through the main bar area, helping patrons toward the exits while thick black smoke pours in from the ceiling. The audio captures a cacophony of screams, shattering glass, coughing, and the roar of flames. Within seconds, visibility drops to near zero. The firefighter’s breathing becomes labored through his mask as he shouts instructions: “Stay low! Toward the sound of my voice!”

At around the 4-minute mark, the footage becomes especially devastating. The camera captures a young woman — later identified as Charlotte Niddam, 22 — collapsed near the rear exit, her phone still glowing in her hand. She is seen reaching toward the lens, mouthing words that are barely audible over the chaos: “Help… I can’t breathe…” The firefighter kneels, attempts to lift her, but is overcome by a sudden surge of heat and smoke. He staggers back, coughing violently, and the clip ends abruptly as he retreats toward a window, leaving Charlotte behind in the darkness.

The second and third clips show the firefighter’s subsequent attempts to re-enter through side doors and windows, assisting other victims and guiding rescue teams. Both are filled with the sounds of collapsing structures, breaking glass, and desperate cries that gradually fade into silence.

The release has sparked immediate controversy. Swiss authorities confirmed they are reviewing the footage as part of the ongoing criminal investigation into potential negligence by venue operators, but have urged the public not to share or speculate on the clips out of respect for victims’ families. “These images are deeply traumatic and should be handled with extreme care,” a police spokesperson said.

Online, the reaction has been overwhelming. Within hours, the first clip alone had been viewed more than 12 million times across platforms despite takedown requests. Many viewers described it as “unwatchable but impossible to look away,” with comments ranging from “This is what true horror looks like” to “My heart is broken for Charlotte and everyone trapped in there.”

The firefighter’s decision to release the footage has divided opinion. Some praise his courage in showing the unfiltered reality of the disaster; others argue it exploits victims’ final moments for attention. The man himself has not spoken publicly since the upload, but colleagues say he acted out of a belief that “the truth needs to be seen so this never happens again.”

As forensic analysis of the venue continues and the death toll stands at 40 confirmed fatalities, these three clips have become the most visceral evidence yet of how quickly celebration turned to catastrophe. For the families still waiting for answers — and for Charlotte Niddam’s mother, who received her daughter’s last desperate messages — the footage is both unbearable and essential. The nightmare captured on camera is now part of the official record — and part of a nation’s collective grief.