Families ID 4 killed in Arizona helicopter crash in Telegraph Canyon

Family members have identified four people killed in a helicopter crash east of Phoenix after authorities said the aircraft struck a slackline stretched across a canyon.

Federal investigators were continuing to examine what led up to the crash.

Authorities said the helicopter crashed about 11 a.m. Jan. 2 in Telegraph Canyon, south of Superior and about 65 miles east of Phoenix. According to the Pinal County Sheriff’s Office, the aircraft had departed from Pegasus Airpark in Queen Creek and was carrying four people, all of whom were killed.

The Sheriff’s Office said search and rescue teams reached the wreckage on foot later that evening and confirmed four fatalities.

A spokesperson for the Pinal County Medical Examiner’s Office said the identities of the four people on board were pending positive identification and had not yet been officially released. Additional information may be available early next week.

‘They were all so loved’

Family members identified the victims as David McCarty, 59, Rachel McCarty, 23, and Faith McCarty, 21, and Katelyn Heideman, 22, all of Oregon.

Mary Jane Heideman, the mother of Katelyn Heideman and aunt to Rachel and Faith McCarty, said the loss of four family members has been devastating.

“They were all so loved,” Heideman said in a text to The Arizona Republic. “The girls had such bright futures. It’s just hard to fathom this.”

In a Facebook post, Elizabeth Gallup said her uncle, cousin and two sisters were among those killed during what she described as a helicopter ride.

“Please continue to pray over every single family member as we process this heartbreak. All the love and support is welcome. We truly have no words right now. They are all in heaven together,” Gallup wrote.

Public records indicate that David McCarty was the owner of Columbia Basin Helicopters, based out of La Grande, Oregon. It was not immediately clear whether the company or its aircraft were involved in the crash.

Founded in 1996, the company website said it operates a fleet of helicopters and aircraft used for tasks such as power-line construction, logging, firefighting, and aircraft recovery, and has a satellite base in Queen Creek.

A man who answered the company’s publicly listed phone number declined to share further information about the helicopter crash.

How did the helicopter crash?

The Federal Aviation Administration and the National Transportation Safety Board were investigating the crash. Authorities said additional information would be released as the investigation continued.

“Preliminary evidence indicates a recreational slackline more than one kilometer long had been strung across the mountain range,” the Sheriff’s Office said in a statement.

An eyewitness who called 911 reported seeing the helicopter strike a portion of the line before falling to the bottom of the canyon, the Sheriff’s Office said.

According to the International Slackline Association, a slackline or a highline is a narrow webbing made of nylon or polyester that is tightened between two fixed anchor points, such as trees or rock formations, and used to balance on.

In a statement, the association said the helicopter struck the line that it said had aviation markers attached.

“No high liners were on the line at the moment of the incident,” the statement read.

“The Last Messages Never Sent” – The Unfinished Lives Cut Short in the Arizona Helicopter Tragedy

Superior, Arizona – January 8, 2026 – On a day meant for vows and celebration, the lives of pilot David McCarty, 59, and his three young nieces – Rachel McCarty, 23; Faith McCarty, 21; and Katelyn Heideman, 21 – ended abruptly when their helicopter crashed in Telegraph Canyon on January 2, 2026.

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While no reports confirm recovery of phone fragments from Faith Heideman (or any victim) containing unsent messages, nor a notebook clutched in anyone’s hand amid the wreckage, the tragedy’s suddenness evokes the profound sense of unfinished conversations, dreams deferred, and words left forever unspoken.

David, an experienced owner of Columbia Basin Helicopters, had gathered family in Arizona for his wedding to fiancée Joelleen Linstrom. Hours before the ceremony, he offered the nieces a scenic flight – a loving gesture over familiar terrain. The MD 369FF helicopter struck a recreational slackline strung more than 600 feet across the canyon, despite a FAA notice warning pilots. The impact sent it plummeting; all aboard perished.

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Hypothetically, in those final airborne moments – soaring above rugged beauty – the group might have been sharing excitement about the wedding, snapping photos, or drafting quick texts to loved ones below: “The views are incredible!” or “See you at the altar soon.” Phones, if carried, could have held drafts never sent, fragments of joy interrupted by the abyss.

The nieces, from close-knit Eastern Oregon communities like Echo and Hermiston, embodied promise. Rachel and Faith, sisters, were athletic, faith-filled, and deeply loved. Katelyn, their cousin, pursued photography passionately, capturing thousands of engagements and family moments in 2025 alone. Their aunt, Mary Jane Heideman, called them “so loved” with “bright futures.”

Sister Elizabeth Gallup posted: “They went out for a helicopter ride… The helicopter crashed and they never got the chance to come home.” Vigils in Oregon drew hundreds, candles flickering for lives full of potential.

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The NTSB continues investigating, with the slackline community expressing sorrow. Hypothetically, clearer markings or stricter oversight might have averted disaster, allowing those messages – of love, excitement, everyday connection – to reach their destinations.

In the silence after impact, no final texts or notes bear witness, but the victims’ stories endure: a devoted uncle sharing wonder, young women on the cusp of everything. Their unfulfilled dreams remind us how swiftly celebration can turn to loss, leaving behind only echoes of what might have been said.

As families grieve and communities heal, the canyon holds their unspoken words – forever unsent, yet eternally felt.