TLDR: On October 13, 2025, a small plane crashed onto Interstate 195 in Massachusetts during a fierce Nor'easter, killing two people and revealing cracks in general aviation safety that most passengers never see. The pilot hadn't filed a flight plan—a seemingly minor omission that becomes critical when weather turns violent. While commercial airlines operate under fortress-like regulations, small-plane pilots fly with remarkable freedom and far fewer safeguards. The victims, Thomas and Agatha Perkins, were community pillars from Rhode Island, not reckless thrill-seekers. Their deaths expose a startling reality: seemingly small decisions and regulatory gaps can collide with a storm in the deadliest ways possible.
A Highway, a Storm, and an Ending No One Expected
Around 8:15 a.m. on a rainy Monday morning, the commute along Interstate 195 in Dartmouth, Massachusetts, turned surreal. As a fall Nor'easter pummeled the region with driving rain and wind gusts hitting 55 mph, a Socata TBM-700 single-engine turboprop fell from the sky. It didn't crash in a remote field or wooded area. It slammed into the grassy highway median, scattering fiery debris across rain-slicked pavement and striking a passing Hyundai Sonata, injuring the driver.
For Thomas Perkins, 68, and his wife Agatha, 66, the flight that began minutes earlier from New Bedford Regional Airport was over. They were bound for Wisconsin but never made it past Dartmouth. The airport had received no flight plan, no passenger count, no advance warning.
Jen Jacobs watched flames erupt across the lanes as she drove through the storm. "I look over and I'm like, that doesn't look like a car," she recalled. "And then, I see the flames."
Wait, what? How does a routine flight end in pieces on a major highway?
When Weather Becomes a Trap
A Nor'easter isn't just heavy rain. It's a coastal storm system that churns moisture-laden air over cold surfaces, creating the perfect recipe for reduced visibility, low clouds, and punishing winds. The October 13 storm dumped up to four inches of rain in localized areas with sustained gusts of 40 to 55 mph along the coast. For pilots, these conditions create what aviation professionals call Instrument Meteorological Conditions—weather so poor you can't see well enough to fly safely by looking out the window.
Here's where things get deadly serious. When a pilot continues a visual flight into deteriorating weather, the statistics turn grim. About 25% of all fatal general aviation accidents involve "continued VFR into adverse weather." Once an accident happens in these conditions, the fatality rate jumps to between 66% and 92%. Low ceilings and reduced visibility from precipitation account for over 70% of weather-related fatalities in general aviation.
The TBM-700 pilot hadn't filed a flight plan, a detail that suggests an attempt to fly using Visual Flight Rules rather than committing to instrument procedures. It's a classic trap. The weather doesn't deteriorate all at once—it creeps in, visibility shrinking gradually, ceilings lowering steadily, until the pilot realizes too late that turning around means flying through conditions just as bad as what's ahead. Aviation psychologists have a name for the powerful urge that keeps pilots pushing forward despite warnings: "get-home-itis." It's not stupidity. It's human nature colliding with atmospheric physics.
Two Worlds of Flying: Fortresses and Freedom
When you board a Delta or United flight, you're stepping into one of the most controlled systems on Earth. Commercial aviation operates under Federal Aviation Administration Part 121 regulations—a fortress of safety rules built over decades of accidents and near-misses. Commercial pilots must file instrument flight plans for every flight. Air traffic controllers track them constantly. The aircraft carry advanced weather radar, de-icing systems, and backup instruments. This multi-layered approach reduces weather-related risks by more than 90%.
General aviation—the world of private pilots, flight schools, and small charter operations—operates differently under Part 91. The philosophy centers on freedom and pilot discretion. A pilot can fly Visual Flight Rules as long as visibility reaches three miles and they stay 500 feet below clouds. No one requires weather briefings. No one mandates flight plans for many trips. No real-time monitoring tracks small planes across the country.
This freedom makes private flight accessible and affordable. It's also what allows a pilot to legally depart into a Nor'easter, make real-time decisions about whether to continue, and face the consequences largely alone. The government shutdown affecting the FAA at the time of the crash further limited official response and commentary, highlighting how little oversight exists even after an accident.
Small planes lack the radar systems that let commercial jets navigate around storm cells. They lack the de-icing equipment that prevents ice buildup on wings. Most importantly, they lack the mandatory processes that force pilots to articulate their plans and reasoning to another human being before departure.
More Than Statistics: Lives Interrupted
Thomas Perkins was a partner in Kirby Perkins Construction, an award-winning firm specializing in historic restoration. His company helped preserve Newport, Rhode Island's iconic mansions—the kind of meticulous work that requires patience, precision, and respect for detail. Agatha Perkins was a certified personal trainer and yoga instructor, known for her warm teaching style and dedication to her students. Both volunteered for the Aquidneck Island Land Trust, working to preserve open spaces for future generations.
They weren't weekend daredevils pushing limits for thrills. They were accomplished professionals, community pillars, and everyday aviators caught in a scenario where small procedural gaps escalated into tragedy during a storm.
The driver of the Hyundai Sonata struck by debris suffered non-life-threatening injuries and was transported to St. Luke's Hospital in New Bedford. Drivers navigating I-195 that morning witnessed an aviation accident unfold at highway speed, a jarring collision of two worlds that rarely intersect so violently.
The Unsettling Truth Hiding in Plain Sight
Here's what should make you stop and think: it's not the dramatic thunderstorms with lightning and towering clouds that kill the most general aviation pilots. It's the gray, visibility-choking weather—the low stratus clouds and fog created when Nor'easters push moist air over cold surfaces—that proves most deadly.
Pilots flying in poor weather conditions face a ninefold increased risk of fatal crashes compared to good conditions. Yet despite pre-flight risk assessment tools, despite constant weather updates, despite decades of safety campaigns, pilots continue flying into these known hazards at alarming rates. The VFR-into-IMC accident rate has remained stuck between 75% and 92% fatal for decades. Decades of technological advances, decades of improved forecasting, and the numbers barely budge.
The system trusts pilot judgment even when weather conditions are screaming at them to stay grounded. It's a strange paradox where the freedom to fly becomes the freedom to fly into a statistically fatal trap, with minimal systemic safeguards to catch the mistake before it becomes irreversible.
What This Crash Teaches Us
The National Transportation Safety Board and Massachusetts State Police continue investigating the crash. Preliminary findings indicate no mechanical problems with the aircraft before impact—the TBM-700's engine showed only damage consistent with the crash itself. This investigation remains in early stages, and conclusions may shift as more evidence emerges.
But some lessons already stand out. For pilots, a Nor'easter isn't weather you fly through and brag about later. It's weather that demands respect, alternate plans, and the willingness to cancel or turn around. Filing a flight plan isn't bureaucratic hassle—it's a lifeline that gives rescuers crucial information and forces pilots to articulate their thinking before they're airborne and committed.
Checking weather advisories isn't optional. Using tools like the PAVE checklist—Pilot, Aircraft, enVironment, External pressures—helps identify risks before they compound. The decision to stay grounded or execute a 180-degree turn isn't cowardice. It's the mark of a pilot who understands that getting there tomorrow beats not getting there at all.
For the broader aviation community and safety advocates, this crash raises harder questions. Does the remarkable freedom that defines general aviation need better-fortified safeguards? How do we preserve accessibility while preventing experienced pilots from making fatal judgment calls during storms? There are no easy answers, but the conversation matters.
On October 13, 2025, two lives ended on a Massachusetts highway during a storm. Their story isn't about blame—it's about understanding the hidden vulnerabilities in a system most people never think about until something goes catastrophically wrong.