Plane Crash Victim’s Husband Shares Her Final Texts as He Remembers Her ‘Extraordinary’ Life

“So many people,” says Daniel Solomon, “spend their whole lives never meeting the right person for them and either staying alone or settling for someone else.”

But he wasn’t one of them.

“I really feel I was one of the lucky ones who met my perfect partner,” he tells PEOPLE in his first interview about his wife, Sarah Best. “And she felt the same.”

Solomon, 57, is a classical studies professor at Vanderbilt University. Best, 33, had been a teacher before becoming an attorney. They were married for just over six years when, in January, she texted him while flying home from Wichita, Kansas, to Washington, D.C., after a work trip.

“I love you,” she wrote before turning off her phone. “I LOVE YOU,” he replied. Those were their last words to each other.

On Jan. 29, just after 8:45 p.m., Best’s plane was descending toward Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport when an Army Black Hawk helicopter collided with it. All 67 people aboard both aircraft were killed. It was the deadliest U.S. aviation disaster in more than 20 years. The investigation is still underway, focusing on the helicopter’s actions, air traffic control decisions, and how much traffic was allowed near the airport.

For months, Solomon has mourned his wife. Now, he’s speaking publicly to share how special she was — loving, compassionate, and deeply committed to others.

“In a world where so many people are just focused on themselves or criticizing others, Sarah was a beacon,” he says. “She built bridges, searched for common ground, and cared for people. That didn’t make her weak. She had a hard edge when she fought for what was right. But that strength never hurt her relationships.”

“She was my soulmate,” Solomon continues. “We really made each other happy. I wish I had more time with her.”

The couple first met at Vanderbilt and later reconnected, marrying in 2018. Best had worked with Teach for America for five years before pursuing law to “affect greater change,” Solomon says. She graduated summa cum laude from the University of Pennsylvania’s Carey Law School in 2021 and went on to secure three clerkships.

“My Sarah was extraordinary,” Solomon says. “Her intelligence and analytical abilities were off the charts.”

Their relationship was often long distance, but they found ways to stay close. She wouldn’t go to sleep unless he was on a video call by her side. She’d even angle the phone on her pillow so it felt like he was there. She also filled their time together with laughter, finding funny videos for them to watch. Solomon visited her every weekend.

In November, Best began working at the law firm Wilkinson Stekloff. She and Solomon moved into an apartment in Washington, D.C.’s old Peace Corps Building, south of Dupont Circle. “We loved it there,” he says.

To support her, Solomon took a nine-month leave from Vanderbilt. For the first time, they furnished a home together and started making plans for their future.

“We had six weeks living the life we’d dreamed about for years,” he says. “Part of me feels angry it was taken away just as we began. But I also feel blessed that I took the leave just in time.”

On Jan. 29, silence first told him something was wrong. Best usually texted once she landed. After 20 minutes without a reply, he checked her flight status online and saw the first reports of a crash. He rushed to the airport, where he happened to meet people from her law firm whose flight had been canceled. Soon after, he learned she was gone.

“It didn’t feel real,” Solomon says. “It felt like I was living someone else’s life.”

He has carefully given away her belongings to friends and family. An olive tree gifted to her by a client was sent to her sister in California, where it continues to grow.

Back in Nashville, the reality of her death feels heavier. “The horrifying reality has set in,” he says.

Solomon worries about forgetting details about his wife. “I don’t want any memory of her to fade,” he admits. But friends and family have kept him going. He still wears his wedding ring and has vowed not to remarry.

“I feel powerless, but I can still honor her by being faithful to her for the rest of my life,” he says. “She would want me to be happy, but this is how I honor her.”

A month before the crash, they even spoke about death in a lighthearted way. “We said if one of us died tomorrow, the other should know we had no regrets. That helps me — but I still just want to remain her husband until I die.”

In his Nashville home, Solomon has created a small shrine. It holds her ashes, eyeglasses recovered from the crash, the 45 rhyming cards they wrote each other, bobbleheads celebrating their 100th day of marriage, and a Lego R2-D2 they built one summer.

He has avoided immersing himself in the federal crash hearings but is waiting for the National Transportation Safety Board’s final report, expected early next year.

Recently, Solomon visited Washington, D.C., to see places they loved together. “I thought it would help relive happy memories,” he says. “But it only made me so sad that I couldn’t be there with her. It reminded me I’ll be missing her for the rest of my life.”

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