Just hours before everything changed, Daniel Williams, founding drummer of the metalcore band The Devil Wears Prada, posted a few photos from the cockpit of a private jet. Nothing flashy, just quiet snapshots from the sky. Nobody could’ve known those images would end up being a final glimpse into his life. He was one of six people on board a Bombardier Challenger 600 that went down over the backcountry of Virginia.
Daniel Williams was 38. He’d left the band back in 2016 after over ten years helping shape its raw, aggressive sound. That day, he was flying out of Fort Lauderdale, heading for Manassas Regional Airport, alongside others, including Dr. Ian Tong, a well-known name in the health tech world. The plane never made it. Somewhere over the George Washington National Forest, it went down. First responders later confirmed what nobody wanted to hear: no survivors.
The images Williams had shared online felt ordinary at first. Familiar even. But after the crash, they took on a different kind of weight: something eerie, quiet, and final.
Authorities are still sorting through the details. Early signs suggest there may’ve been a mechanical failure, but between the rough terrain and the wreckage, it’s going to take time to figure out exactly what went wrong. For now, there are more questions than answers.
The news hit hard in the music world. Williams’s drumming wasn’t just technically tight—it had a pulse, a force that anchored the chaos of metalcore. He helped define the sound of The Devil Wears Prada on albums like Dead Throne and With Roots Above and Branches Below. After he stepped away from the band, he didn’t disappear, just shifted gears. He kept working on music behind the scenes, did some studio stuff, and, according to a few people close to him, got into some quiet business ventures too.
Friends say he was the kind of guy who didn’t chase attention. Thoughtful. Funny when you least expected it. The kind who worked hard and stayed out of the noise.
For fans, he wasn’t just a drummer. He was a piece of something bigger, something a lot of them grew up with. When he left the band, it felt like the end of a chapter.
And yeah, people are talking again about the risks that come with private jets. It’s a tough conversation, but not new. Still, beneath all that noise, there’s something quieter happening. People are remembering a guy who gave a lot to music, who kept creating even when no one was watching.
Daniel’s gone, but his sound, those crisp snare rolls, the weight behind every kick: it’s still there. Still alive in every track. The man may be gone, but the rhythm he left behind isn’t going anywhere.