FRANKLIN, N.C. (WZTV) — Three people have died in a small-engine plane crash near Franklin, North Carolina, according to the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). One of the occupants was Grammy-winning songwriter Brett James, confirmed by the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame.
The Cirrus SR22T, a plane registered to James that left Nashville at 12:41 p.m. CST, went down west of Iotla Valley Elementary School, reported WLOS earlier Thursday. Students and staff were reported safe, and no one was injured at the school, according to the Macon County Sheriff’s Office. The other two people on the plane were Melody Carole and Meryl Maxwell Wilson, according to the North Carolina State Highway Patrol.
A statement from the FAA states:
“A Cirrus SR22T crashed in a field in Franklin, North Carolina, around 3 p.m. local time on Thursday, Sept. 18. Three people were on board. The FAA and National Transportation Safety Board will investigate. The NTSB will be in charge of the investigation and will provide further updates.”
The Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame announced James’ passing on Thursday night.
James, 57, had more than 800 songs recorded by artists including Tim McGraw, Taylor Swift, and Bon Jovi. One of his most notable hits is “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” sung by Carrie Underwood.
He was twice named ASCAP’s Country Songwriter of the Year and was elected to the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2020. James also worked as a producer, served on the boards of the Country Music Association and the Recording Academy, and owned the publishing company Cornman Music, according to the Nashville Symphony website.
The National Transportation Safety Board said it is investigating the crash. The North Carolina Highway Patrol is assisting, and the Federal Aviation Administration is leading the investigation.
Heartbreaking: First Thing Found in Plane Crash Near North Carolina School That Left Grammy Award-Winning Musician Brett James Dead at 57 Leaves Everyone Shocked
In the quiet, rolling hills of Franklin, North Carolina, a routine afternoon shattered into unimaginable tragedy on September 18. A small Cirrus SR22T aircraft plummeted from the sky, crashing into a sun-drenched field mere yards from the playground of Iotla Valley Elementary School. The impact echoed like a thunderclap across the community, claiming the lives of three souls aboard: Grammy-winning songwriter Brett James, 57, alongside Melody Carole and Meryl Maxwell Wilson. But as first responders sifted through the smoldering wreckage, the first item they uncovered—a tattered, bloodstained notebook clutched in James’s hand—sent chills through everyone on the scene. Inside its pages lay unfinished lyrics, a poignant farewell from a man whose words had touched millions, now forever silenced.
The notebook, its cover emblazoned with faded Sharpie scrawls reading “Brett’s Songs – Nashville ’25,” was the very first artifact pulled from the debris. Firefighters from the Cowee Fire Department, arriving within minutes of the 3 p.m. crash, described the moment in hushed tones to local reporters. “It was right there, like he was holding onto it for dear life,” said Chief Dustin Pendergrass, his voice cracking during a press briefing outside the Macon County Sheriff’s Office. The pages, singed at the edges but miraculously intact, revealed raw, heartfelt verses about redemption, family, and the fleeting nature of life—echoing the themes that defined James’s illustrious career. One unfinished stanza, scribbled in his distinctive looping handwriting, read: “When the wheels give way and the sky turns black / Hold on to the wheel, there ain’t no turning back / But in the fall, I found my grace / Jesus, take the wheel… one last embrace.” The irony was gut-wrenching; these words seemed to mirror the title of his most famous hit, “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” co-written for Carrie Underwood in 2005.
Word of the notebook spread like wildfire through Nashville’s tight-knit music community, amplifying the shockwaves of grief. Jason Aldean, who collaborated with James on the introspective track “The Truth,” took to X (formerly Twitter) late Thursday night: “Heartbroken to hear of the loss of my friend Brett James tonight. I had nothing but love and respect for that guy and he helped change my life. Honored to have met him and worked with him. Thoughts and prayers going out to his family.” By Friday morning, the post had garnered over 50,000 likes, with fans and fellow artists piling on tributes. Sara Evans, another collaborator, shared, “I am absolutely devastated at the loss of one of the best writers I’ve ever written with and recorded several of his songs, Brett James.” The notebook’s discovery transformed a mechanical failure into a profoundly personal elegy, leaving onlookers—from hardened investigators to wide-eyed schoolchildren—stunned into silence.
The flight had begun innocently enough, a hop from Nashville’s John C. Tune Airport at 12:41 p.m. CDT, bound for the scenic Macon County Airport in Franklin. Registered to James under his full name, Brett James Cornelius, the single-engine plane carried the songwriter and his two companions on what was described by friends as a casual getaway to the mountains. FlightAware data later revealed a harrowing final descent: two desperate loops near the runway, a plummeting speed of just 83 mph, and then silence. The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) confirmed the Cirrus SR22T went down in a field adjacent to Iotla Valley Elementary, where recess had just ended. Miraculously, no one on the ground was injured. The Macon County Sheriff’s Office issued an immediate Facebook alert: “To the parents that have children that attend Iotla school. The students, and staff are safe. There was an airplane accident on the neighboring property. Again all students and staff are safe.”
As helicopters whirred overhead and ambulances wailed, the scene unfolded with the precision of a somber drill. The North Carolina State Highway Patrol arrived first, pronouncing all three victims dead at the site. Melody Carole, a Nashville-based artist manager, and Meryl Maxwell Wilson, a music executive and close friend of James, were identified alongside him by Friday morning. The NTSB has taken the lead on the investigation, with preliminary reports pointing to possible mechanical issues or pilot error, though no official cause has been released. Yet, it was the notebook that humanized the horror, a fragile bridge between James’s vibrant past and his abrupt end.
Brett James wasn’t just a songwriter; he was a force of nature in country music, a Missouri-born dreamer who nearly traded his guitar for a stethoscope. Raised in Oklahoma City, the son of a family practitioner, young Brett James Cornelius enrolled in pre-med at Baylor University and later medical school at the University of Oklahoma. But music called louder. During a spring break trip to Nashville in his sophomore year, he demoed a few tunes and landed meetings with record labels. Signing with Arista Records, he released his self-titled debut album in 1995, though commercial success eluded him initially. Undeterred—or perhaps disillusioned—he returned to med school in 1999. Fate intervened again: a publishing deal pulled him back to Music City for good.
What followed was a songwriting renaissance. James penned or co-wrote over 500 tracks, many topping the charts and earning him two ASCAP Country Songwriter of the Year awards (2006 and 2010). His Grammy for Best Country Song came in 2006 for “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” a soaring ballad of faith and surrender that propelled Carrie Underwood to superstardom on American Idol. The song’s raw vulnerability—about a mother handing over control to a higher power amid a highway crisis—mirrored the notebook’s haunting final lines, as if James had been penning his own coda.
His catalog reads like a who’s who of country royalty. “When the Sun Goes Down” for Kenny Chesney and Uncle Kracker became a beachside anthem. Rascal Flatts’ “Rewind” captured nostalgic heartache; Tim McGraw’s “Felt Good on My Lips” pulsed with barroom energy. James even ventured into pop, co-writing Taylor Swift’s “Hey Stephen” and Kelly Clarkson’s “Wrapped in Red.” Bon Jovi tapped him for rock edges, while Dierks Bentley’s “I Hold On” drew from James’s own losses, including the death of his father. Inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2020, he served on the NSAI board, mentoring young talents and advocating for fair royalties. “Brett was a trusted collaborator to country’s greatest names, and a true advocate for his fellow songwriters,” ASCAP posted on Instagram.
Beyond the hits, James was a family man, married to Lorrie James with two children, Eden and Barrett. Friends recall his love of flying as an extension of his free-spirited soul—the same wanderlust that fueled songs about open roads and second chances. Kathie Lee Gifford, who co-wrote with him including a tribute to her late husband Frank, shared on X: “My heart was crushed… He lit a fire in my heart again for music… It comforts me to know that’s exactly what happened to Brett as well, the moment he left this earth for the glory of eternal life.” Her words captured the notebook’s essence: a life of melody meeting its final chord.
The crash’s proximity to the school added layers of terror and relief. Iotla Valley, a K-5 haven nestled in the Nantahala Forest, buzzed with normalcy—children laughing on swings, teachers grading papers—until the roar overhead turned to a sickening crunch. Parents rushed to pick up their kids early, faces pale with what-ifs. “We heard the boom, felt the ground shake,” one mother told WLOS News 13, clutching her son’s hand. Counselors were on-site by evening, a small mercy in a day of none. For the Wilson family—Melody’s ties to local charities ran deep—the loss ripples through community fundraisers and school events. Meryl, known for her sharp industry eye, leaves behind a network of protégés now adrift.
As the sun set on the wreckage Friday, investigators cataloged the notebook as evidence, its pages photocopied for the NTSB file. Fans gathered virtually, streaming “Jesus, Take the Wheel” in vigil. Carrie Underwood posted a black-and-white photo of herself on stage, captioning it simply: “Brett, your words carried me. Rest easy.” (Adapted from fan tributes on X.) Kirk Herbstreit, the ESPN broadcaster and Nashville resident, added: “Living in Nashville, I’ve been very fortunate to meet a lot of incredible people…Brett was certainly that—one of the most talented and yet humble and down to earth.”
James’s death at 57 robs country music of a giant, but the notebook endures as his last gift—a raw, unfiltered glimpse into a soul mid-creation. In a genre built on stories of loss and grace, his final lines feel prophetic, urging us to surrender the wheel when the road ends. As the investigation unfolds, one truth remains: Brett James didn’t just write songs; he wove eternity into everyday heartache. The shock of that field-side find will fade, but his voice? It echoes on.
