A preliminary National Transportation Safety Board report has exposed the harrowing final seconds of a Cirrus SR22T flight that spiraled out of control and plunged into a North Carolina field, killing Grammy-winning songwriter Brett James, his girlfriend, and her daughter just yards from a runway.

The tragedy unfolded on September 18, 2025, around 3 p.m. local time, when the single-engine aircraft, registered as N218VB, slammed into a grassy expanse north of Runway 7 at Macon County Airport (1A5) in Franklin, North Carolina. The plane had departed John C. Tune Airport (JWN) in Nashville, Tennessee, at approximately 12:41 p.m. CDT, bound for a routine landing at the small mountain airfield nestled in the Nantahala National Forest. According to flight tracking data cited in the NTSB’s initial findings, the pilot—identified as James, 57—initiated an attempted go-around after a botched approach, but the maneuver devolved into disaster. Witnesses reported hearing a “loud bang” moments before impact, and the wreckage came to rest about 500 feet from the threshold, perilously close to Iotla Valley Elementary School, where students and staff were safely evacuated without incident.

James, a Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame inductee renowned for penning chart-toppers like Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus, Take the Wheel” and Kenny Chesney’s “Wrap Me Up,” was piloting the sleek turbocharged Cirrus SR22T, a popular choice among private aviators for its advanced avionics and controversial whole-airframe parachute system (CAPS). Accompanying him were Melody Wilson, 59, a longtime music industry figure and James’ girlfriend, and her daughter Meryl Maxwell Wilson, 28, a budding artist in her own right. All three perished at the scene, their deaths sending shockwaves through Nashville’s tight-knit country music community and prompting an outpouring of tributes from stars like Underwood, who posted on Instagram: “Brett’s words changed my life. This loss is unimaginable.”

The NTSB’s preliminary report, released this week, paints a picture of rapid deterioration during the aircraft’s descent. ADS-B tracking data showed the plane in a stable left turn for landing before abruptly entering “a tightening spiral” at low altitude—estimated around 300-500 feet above ground level. The spiral, characterized by increasingly steep banks and a plummeting nose, is a classic symptom of a loss of control, often triggered by factors like spatial disorientation, stall recovery mishandling, or mechanical failure. No distress call was recorded, though some accounts suggest the pilot may have been preoccupied with troubleshooting an unspecified issue during the approach. The report notes that the CAPS parachute—a hallmark safety feature of Cirrus aircraft designed for low-altitude deployment—was not activated, a detail that has fueled speculation among aviation experts. Deployment guidelines recommend pulling the handle as low as 400 feet above ground in emergencies, but the system’s success rate drops precipitously below that threshold.

First responders from the Macon County Sheriff’s Office arrived within minutes, greeted by a scene of twisted metal and acrid smoke rising from the inverted fuselage. “It was a loud bang, then silence,” recounted one local resident to Fox Carolina affiliates, describing the impact that shook windows at the nearby elementary school. The FAA confirmed the crash site’s proximity to the runway—mere hundreds of yards—underscoring the irony of a landing so nearly successful. No ground injuries occurred, thanks to swift school lockdowns, but the emotional toll on the rural community has been palpable. Franklin Mayor Barbara McClure issued a statement praising the “heroic calm” of teachers who shielded children from the horror, while counseling services were made available at the school.

James, the aircraft’s registered owner and a Brentwood, Tennessee resident, was no novice in the cockpit. FAA records show he held a private pilot certificate with instrument and multi-engine ratings, logging over 1,200 hours since earning his wings in 2010. Friends described him as a passionate flyer who often ferried his loved ones on weekend getaways, blending his high-flying music career with aerial adventures. “Brett lived life full throttle—on stage and in the sky,” said fellow songwriter Rivers Rutherford in a tearful eulogy at a Nashville memorial service last week. Yet, the report hints at possible human factors: James had been en route from a songwriting retreat, and fatigue or distraction couldn’t be ruled out in these early stages. Weather at the time was clear with light winds, per METAR data from nearby Asheville Regional Airport, eliminating visibility or turbulence as immediate culprits.

The Cirrus SR22T, prized for its composite airframe, retractable gear, and Garmin Perspective+ glass cockpit, has a stellar safety record overall but isn’t immune to scrutiny. Since its introduction in 2006, the model has been involved in over 200 accidents worldwide, with pilot error cited in roughly 70% of fatal U.S. cases, according to AOPA’s Air Safety Institute. Spiral dives like this one often stem from inadvertent stalls during low-speed maneuvers, exacerbated by the SR22T’s high performance—cruising at 213 knots with a service ceiling of 25,000 feet. Critics point to the plane’s responsive controls as a double-edged sword: forgiving for pros, unforgiving for momentary lapses. “These birds fly like sports cars—thrilling, but demand respect,” noted aviation analyst Paul Bertorelli in a post-report analysis for AVweb. The NTSB’s go-team, led by investigator Ryan Enders, recovered the onboard avionics for download in Washington, D.C., where flight data recorder (if equipped) and engine parameters will be scrutinized for anomalies like fuel starvation or alternator failure.

This crash marks the second fatal SR22T incident in North Carolina this year, following a July 7 mishap near Raleigh Executive Jetport (KTTA) that claimed one life amid reported engine trouble. In that case, the NTSB probed alternator failure and spatial disorientation at 11,000 feet, with Reddit’s r/flying community buzzing over theories from hypoxia to electrical gremlins. Parallels abound: both involved experienced pilots in visual conditions, both ended in stalls without CAPS deployment. Broader trends paint a sobering picture— the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association reports a 12% uptick in general aviation spirals since 2020, often linked to post-pandemic rustiness among part-time flyers. “Pilots must drill stall recovery religiously,” urges the FAA’s latest safety bulletin, emphasizing simulator time for high-wing-load aircraft like the Cirrus.

Public reaction has been a mix of grief and grim fascination. On X, #BrettJames trended with 50,000 posts in 24 hours, blending condolences—”He gave us anthems that healed hearts; now heaven has a new voice”—with crash forensics debates: “Tightening spiral screams disorientation. CAPS at 500ft? Should’ve been instinct.” Aviation forums like Beechtalk dissected the prelim, with one poster theorizing wind shear off the Appalachians, though data refutes it. Music peers, from Tim McGraw to Faith Hill, rallied with benefit concerts slated for November, proceeds earmarked for the James-Wilson scholarship fund at Belmont University. Melody and Meryl’s obituaries highlighted their Nashville roots—Melody as a veteran promoter, Meryl as an emerging indie singer—turning the story into a triple loss for Music Row.

As the NTSB digs deeper—expect a full docket in 12-18 months—this Franklin field fiasco serves as a stark reminder of aviation’s razor edge. James’ final flight, meant to cap a creative escape, instead immortalizes the perils of the skies. For now, the wreckage sits impounded, a silent sentinel awaiting answers. In Nashville, a plaque at the Bluebird Cafe bears his name, etched with lyrics from his last unreleased hit: “We chase the horizon, but gravity calls.” Fitting words for a man who flew too close to it.