We've all read accident reports that conclude "always check your rappel anchors". I never thought I would get to write one of them, but here it is. On Saturday, Nov 2, 2019, we descended Shenanigans canyon (in southern Utah) as a solidly intermediate group of four. We hoped to link Shenanigans with one of the Leprechauns, which meant there was no time for dawdling. We left our car at the bottom, at Sandthrax campsite. Saturday dawned cold and beautiful. The approach was very pleasant: a cool breeze, beautiful views, and minimal aimless desert wandering. The beginning of the canyon and the first two narrows were great as well; the group was moving well, not burning too much energy, and passing around the "large" pack with the rope in it. We entered the third narrows about three hours after starting the canyon. Shortly into the third narrows is a feature called the Grim Crawl of Death. The canyon drops ~30 feet without an obvious rappel anchor, but there's a deep pocket where someone can sit as a meat anchor. From there, a narrow, sloping ledge along the canyon right wall offers an exposed crawl to a narrow spot with a (spicy) downclimb. In some groups, everyone does the Grim Crawl and downclimbs; the more common approach is to have most people rappel off of the strongest climber, who crawls and downclimbs alone. Approaching the Grim Crawl, we came across a chockstone that had been slung as a rappel anchor. It was a long way back from the edge, and it looked like a previous party had used all their webbing to try to extend it. The chock was slung with a length of bright red webbing, which led to a length of bright yellow webbing that ended 15 feet short of the lip. One member of our group remembers seeing the webbing tied together with a single flat overhand (like an EDK, not a water knot) and thinking that the tail was much too short. Another party member said that the slung chockstone was in poor form and wanted to chop it, but he wasn't carrying a knife. We discussed the best way forward and decided that rappelling off of the slung chockstone would be fastest if un-stylish (and we were burning daylight!). I rigged the rappel from the existing webbing, with a Smooth Operator to make the pull easier. I double-checked my work, and asked one of the others to triple-check. The webbing was in great shape and looked practically brand-new: bright, supple, undamaged, and barely even dirty. I don't remember what the knot between pieces of webbing looked like, so we must not have checked that part. This isn't a good excuse, but it was around the corner and out of sight. I rappelled first, reaching the bottom uneventfully. I called "off rope", then started moving the rope and release cord down canyon to make the pull cleaner. The next person started rappelling. I glanced up as he crossed the lip, saw him move a little to his right, then turned around again. The next thing I heard was screaming, a thud, and more screaming. Running back up canyon, I found the second rappeller lying on his back on slanted ground, with a pile of rope, release cord, and webbing on top of him. He had fallen 20-30 feet and landed on a rock slab on some combination of elbows, feet, and backpack. He was wearing a helmet, but says it didn't come into play. Nobody saw what happened to the webbing at the time. Looking at the evidence afterwards, the flat overhand must have rolled off the end of the webbing. The only sign that there had ever been a knot was that one strand was a little wrinkled at the end. A recreation at home of what the knot must have looked like: Through an enormous stroke of luck, our injured canyoneer had no fractures, dislocations, or spinal injuries. One knee was in pretty rough shape, both elbows were quite scraped and bruised, and he was in a lot of pain. He later discovered a rib injury as well. After a healthy dose of ibuprofen (and treatment for shock), some water, and some rest, he was able to limp unaided. I don't know how pleasant walking was, but he was moving on his own. Extrication proved easier than we all feared. The two at the top of the drop lowered a piece of webbing, we tied the rope on, and they pulled it back up. Our injured person used his good leg and better arm to ascend the rope (on a meat anchor) with a belay (from the chockstone). This was his first time ascending, so he got to endure some on-the-spot training with the usual floundering. It probably would have been a good thing to practice somewhere outside of a canyon first, but his learning to ascend against a wall while injured is one of the more impressive things I've seen lately. We knew he was okay when he asked for pictures of the process (for the 'gram, you know). From the top of the drop, it was an awkward squeeze-y walk/crawl up canyon, followed by the third-class bail route above the third narrows and a long limp across the desert. Our car was still 6 miles away; I started to run to get it, but quickly met a nice group from Provo who offered me a ride (thanks, Mark!). While I was off to get our car, someone else from the Provo group picked up the rest of the group with another car, and fed them hot chocolate at their fire (thanks, Mark's friends!) Takeaways: Check rappel anchors thoroughly. Every part of them. It was the part of the anchor we didn't check that got us, and several people had used it after it was tied. If you're going to fall and get hurt, it's a good idea to be young at the same time. Our injured person bounced really well. A first-aid kit and emergency ascenders were good to have, even in a tight canyon that punishes you for every little bit you carry.