The serene skies over Idaho’s rugged landscape turned tragic on Tuesday, January 27, 2026, when a small plane carrying Roland Steadham, the beloved chief meteorologist for CBS affiliate KBOI (CBS2) in Boise, plummeted into the icy waters of the Payette River near Emmett. The crash claimed the lives of both occupants—Steadham, 67, an accomplished pilot and longtime broadcaster, and his passenger, identified by the Gem County Coroner as Dallin Laufenberg. What should have been a routine flight for a man who spent his career forecasting weather patterns ended in an instant of catastrophe, leaving a community in mourning, colleagues heartbroken, and a family shattered.

Meteorologist Roland Steadham Dies in Icy River Plane Crash in Idaho

The incident unfolded shortly before 11 a.m., when authorities received reports of a small aircraft clipping a power line and crashing onto the frozen surface of the Payette River west of Montour in Gem County, northeast of Emmett. The Gem County Sheriff’s Office responded swiftly to the scene, confirming that both men aboard suffered fatal injuries. Preliminary investigations pointed to the plane striking the power line as the trigger, sending the craft spiraling into the river’s icy embrace. The impact not only ended two lives but also knocked out power in the surrounding area, with crews working urgently to restore service once the site was secured.

Steadham was no stranger to the skies. Described by his station as an “accomplished pilot,” he operated his small aircraft out of the Emmett Municipal Airport, a quiet hub where locals knew him as much for his aviation passion as for his on-air presence. He held a commercial pilot’s license and had even pursued skydiving in his earlier years—a testament to his adventurous spirit. For over a decade, he had been the face of weather forecasting in Boise, delivering forecasts with warmth, precision, and a genuine connection to viewers who relied on him during Idaho’s harsh winters and unpredictable summers.

Born and raised with a deep appreciation for the elements, Steadham built a career that spanned multiple markets before settling in Idaho. He served as chief meteorologist at WTVJ-NBC6 in South Florida from 1996 to 2006, where he became a trusted voice during hurricane seasons that tested both his expertise and his calm demeanor. Colleagues from that era remember him as a “nice, nice man”—professional, approachable, and deeply committed to accuracy. After leaving Florida, he continued in broadcasting roles across other cities, honing his craft until landing at KBOI, where he became a fixture in Boise living rooms.

CBS meteorologist Roland Steadham killed in Idaho plane crash

Viewers knew him for his engaging style: clear graphics, straightforward explanations, and a touch of humor that made complex meteorological data accessible. Whether warning of incoming snowstorms that could blanket the Treasure Valley or highlighting rare sunny breaks in the high desert, Steadham had a way of making people feel prepared rather than panicked. His on-air persona mirrored his off-air life—steady, reliable, family-oriented.

At home, Roland was a devoted husband to his wife, Erin, and a loving father to six children, with grandchildren adding even more joy to their lives. The family resided in the Boise area, where Roland balanced demanding broadcast schedules with ranch-style living and weekend flights. Friends describe him as a man who cherished quiet moments: flying over the Sawtooth Mountains, spending time with his kids and grandkids, sharing stories of past adventures. His passion for aviation wasn’t just a hobby; it was an extension of his love for weather—the very thing he studied and explained every day.

The crash has sent shockwaves through the broadcasting community and beyond. KBOI issued a heartfelt statement: “It is with great sadness that we share that beloved CBS2 Chief Meteorologist Roland Steadham died in a plane crash on Tuesday.” The station highlighted his legacy, noting how he touched countless lives through his forecasts and personal warmth. Tributes poured in from colleagues nationwide. On CBS Mornings, meteorologist Rob Marciano paid an emotional on-air remembrance, calling Steadham a “longtime colleague” he’d known personally for 20 years. “Someone I’ve known personally for 20 years, our chief meteorologist for CBS 2 in Boise. It’s Roland Steadham, and he died Tuesday in a small plane crash along with one other passenger.”

Former co-workers from WTVJ and other stations echoed the sentiment, sharing memories of his kindness and professionalism. In South Florida, where he once guided residents through tropical threats, local outlets like NBC 6 and Local 10 reported the news with heavy hearts, reminding viewers of the man who had been part of their daily routine years ago.

The passenger, Dallin Laufenberg, remains a figure of quiet respect in reports. Little has been publicly detailed about him yet, but the shared tragedy underscores the indiscriminate nature of such accidents—two lives intertwined in a final, fatal flight. Authorities have not specified who was piloting at the time, leaving open questions as the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) and Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) launch full investigations. The power line strike suggests possible low visibility, mechanical issues, or pilot error in challenging conditions, but officials caution that conclusions are premature.

In Emmett and surrounding communities, the Payette River—usually a place of recreation and natural beauty—became a somber site. First responders worked in freezing temperatures to recover the wreckage and the victims, their efforts hampered by ice and the remote location. The crash site, near a scarp slope in some accounts, hints at terrain challenges that pilots in the region know well. For those who fly small planes out of Emmett Municipal, the incident serves as a stark reminder of aviation’s risks, even for experienced hands like Steadham.

The outpouring of grief has been profound. Social media flooded with condolences: viewers posting favorite forecast clips, families sharing how his warnings saved plans or property during storms. Colleagues described him as “beloved,” a word repeated across tributes. His station promised to honor his memory, perhaps through special segments or scholarships in his name—ways to keep his legacy alive in a field he loved.

This tragedy also spotlights broader issues. Small plane crashes, while statistically rare per flight hour, often involve general aviation enthusiasts like Steadham. The NTSB’s upcoming report will scrutinize factors such as weather at the time (ironically, something Steadham himself would have analyzed), aircraft maintenance, and human elements. For now, the focus remains on mourning rather than speculation.

Roland Steadham’s death leaves a void in Boise’s media landscape. Who will deliver the next winter storm update with the same reassuring tone? Who will explain inversions or wildfire smoke patterns with that blend of science and heart? His absence will be felt most acutely by his family—Erin facing life without her partner, children and grandchildren navigating grief without their patriarch.

Yet amid sorrow, stories of his life inspire. He lived fully: forecasting for millions, soaring above mountains, building a large, loving family. He embodied the meteorologist’s creed—preparing people for what comes next—right up to his final flight.

As investigations continue and the Payette River flows on, carrying away the physical remnants of that fateful morning, Roland Steadham’s voice lingers in memories. The man who read the skies for so many now leaves us to reflect on life’s fragility, the beauty of passion pursued, and the enduring impact of kindness delivered daily.

In a world of constant change and unpredictable weather, Roland Steadham was a constant—reliable, warm, expert. His story, cut short on a cold January day, reminds us to cherish those who guide us through storms, both literal and metaphorical. Rest in peace, Roland. The skies you loved now hold you, and the people you served will never forget.