When 32-year-old Daniel Whitaker woke up in a hospital bed, covered in burns and broken bones, he thought he had cheated death once. What he didn’t know then was that lightning would strike twice — in the most horrifying way imaginable. Daniel survived two separate plane crashes that killed every member of his family, in what experts are calling a 1 in 11,560,000,000,000,000,000 statistical impossibility.
“It’s like the universe tried twice to erase me — and missed,” he said quietly in an interview with BBC News. His voice cracked as he recalled watching fire swallow the fuselage around him. “Both times, I heard the same sound — metal screaming. And then silence.”
The first crash happened in 2011, when the Whitaker family’s small charter plane went down in rural Montana. Daniel’s parents and younger sister were killed instantly. Investigators later determined that an unexpected storm caused the aircraft to lose control before clipping a ridge and bursting into flames. “He was found nearly half a mile from the wreckage,” said former NTSB investigator Craig Whitford. “No one had ever seen a survival like that.”
“He’s survived not one but two separate plane crashes that claimed his entire family. The odds? 1 in 11 quintillion.” @Reuters
After years of physical therapy and grief counseling, Daniel rebuilt his life in Denver. He became a mechanic, married, and tried to leave flying behind forever. But tragedy found him again. In July 2023, while traveling with his wife and infant daughter to visit relatives in Alaska, the small twin-prop plane they boarded crashed into a frozen lake shortly after takeoff. Once again, Daniel was the sole survivor.
Rescuers found him clinging to debris in sub-zero temperatures, his hands frozen, his body in shock. “He wasn’t screaming or crying,” said emergency responder Tyler Brooks. “He just kept asking where his baby was.”
The second crash reignited national attention on small aircraft safety and pilot fatigue. Aviation experts told CNN that the likelihood of one person surviving two unrelated crashes of that severity was “beyond measurable probability.”
“To survive two fatal plane crashes — that’s not luck, that’s something else entirely.” @CBSNews
“It’s effectively impossible,” said data analyst Dr. Erin Coates. “Statistically, the odds are lower than winning the Powerball jackpot 18 times in a row.”
Daniel doesn’t like talking about the numbers. “People say I’m lucky,” he told The Guardian. “But lucky people don’t bury their families twice.”
He now lives alone in a cabin outside Spokane, surrounded by photos of those he lost. His therapist, Dr. Melissa Carver, says the survivor’s guilt has become unbearable. “He’s haunted by it,” she explained. “He keeps asking, ‘Why me?’ And there’s no answer for that.”
But Daniel has found small ways to keep going. He volunteers with the American Red Cross and helps mentor trauma survivors. “I can’t explain why I’m still here,” he said. “So maybe I’m supposed to do something with it.”
“‘People say I’m lucky,’ he says. ‘But lucky people don’t bury their families twice.’” @AP
In the weeks after the second crash, aviation investigators released a preliminary report suggesting mechanical failure played a role. But to Daniel, the details hardly matter. “It’s not the crash that stays with you,” he said. “It’s the sound of not hearing them again.”
As his story spread, social media exploded with messages of support. “This man is living through what no one should endure,” one post read on X. “He’s proof that miracles come with pain.” Others called him “the unluckiest man alive — and the strongest.”
“It’s not about surviving anymore,” Daniel said softly in a follow-up with Today. “It’s about learning to exist when everyone else is gone.”
Despite his trauma, Daniel says he’ll never fly again — but he refuses to let fear define him. “I’ve died twice already,” he said. “Whatever comes next, I’m not afraid of it.”
For now, his life is quiet. A small garden. A dog named Piper. The faint smell of jet fuel still triggers flashbacks, but he says the nightmares have softened. “Every morning, I wake up and touch the ground,” he said. “And I say thank you — because for whatever reason, I’m still here.”
