Given that we already know not to depart with less fuel that it might take to complete a planned trip, meaning not even to cover the straight-line distance flown, there's not a lot to learn from this one.
If you are the sort of jerk who wants to really, really push his luck, push it really hard, then you will just think that the accident crew made a mess of that one, something you would never do, somehow.
If you have any sense at all, you will just wonder, "What were they thinking?"
I must have a criminal mind, but I can think of a way to have got away with that, probably:
A. Make up a story inbound to destination about a fuel leak of my own. Even declare an emergency if I have to, but get cleared for a priority landing in good time. Being put into the hold, Number Three for the approach with just minutes of fuel remaining ... not an option, no matter what.
B. After landing, fix the imaginary problem. Just a leaking quick drain. "Tap-tap-tap .... See? It's fine now. No problem."
C. Refuel, refile, and depart soonest for some friendly jurisdiction where sympathetic people can deal with any lingering questions from back at your destination! The sheer mind-boggling notion that someone just flew a trip with less fuel than the book says he needed ... who thinks of that explanation right away?
Of course there are always unforeseen things that can come up to scupper finely-worked schemes that might see you arriving running on fumes yet still managing to land safely. This is the reason why we have all those boring rules about having an alternate and contingency fuel and all that sort of stuff that takes all the fun and adventure out of aviation. You'd be a fool and some sort of criminal to try this in the first place, but it's still easy to think of a way to behave in such a damned risky manner yet still hope to survive your own folly.
With this one, it really reads as if the accident crew, having already put themselves in a situation of grave danger, finally tamely followed orders that were bound to kill them. That suggests that the crew had finally got themselves into so much trouble that they were not able to think things through any further.
I remember once asking our dispatcher, who had survived a crash while sat on the jumpseat of a BAC 1-11, a crash that killed both flight crew, what was going on during the last few minutes of the flight, when they had to shoot multiple approaches in a sandstorm to a destination out in the middle of the Sahara. He told me that the Captain had to do it all by himself, shooting those approaches, so that I asked him what the FO was doing then.
"Ah, he was praying."
The big disappointment was wanting to be told what happened when they hit the fire station, after they made that last approach followed by a more-or-less blind landing. "I had my eyes closed then," he told me. "I do not know what happened."
When he opened his eyes, there he was in the wreckage of the cockpit, one dead Captain to his left, one dead FO to his right, and no rush to evacuate because there was no fire.