Testing Our Limits

by James Cavuoto, editor

Anyone who follows aviation, as this editor does, is eager to learn about the features and capabilities of new aircraft when they get introduced, particularly if there is something groundbreaking about the design. But most pilots would not be so eager to get behind the controls and fly one of those new planes before has undergone testing. That is the role of a test pilot.

It doesn’t happen often, but when we lose a test pilot in a crash because something was not quite right with the design of the aircraft or the flight conditions it was exposed to, it is a sad day. But the aviation community moves on, knowing that the aircraft’s design will be improved and its safety profile enhanced because of the information gleaned from the accident.

Nolan Williams was a test pilot.

Most of us did not know it—and we certainly didn’t when we invited him to speak at our 23rd Annual Neurotech Leaders Forum—but Professor Williams was not just a pioneering medical researcher whose TMS innovations for treating depression would help thousands of people with the disorder. He was a patient suffering from the very condition he was seeking to alleviate.

When news of his death by suicide reached the outside world, there was widespread grief in the academic community and in the circle of clinicians and patients who had benefited from his work.

A message on the Magnus Medical website summarized his contributions. “Nolan was a scientific visionary and a truly empathetic individual whose profound commitment to addressing the crisis in brain health defined his career. He was a recognized leader in research, innovation, and the crucial movement to destigmatize brain health conditions. His groundbreaking work at Stanford University led to the development of the SAINT neuromodulation platform, which became the foundation of Magnus Medical’s technology and mission. His vision—that healing from depression should be faster, more precise, and accessible—continues to guide everything we do.”

In an online eulogy, friend and colleague Owen Muir—himself a psychiatrist also dealing with a mood disorder—said, “Williams was a hero to me. Nothing about my life, as it is now, would exist without the work that he did, and without the friendship, leadership, boldness, and unbelievably hard work he did.”

Williams was not the first neurotechnology researcher to devote his career to a disorder he was suffering from. But his loss is tragic nonetheless and points out the intensity of the suffering that people with depression experience. If someone with Williams’ intelligence and knowledge of the disorder could fall victim to it, imagine what less gifted patients go through.

But beyond the personal loss, Magnus Medical—and indeed all TMS vendors—will have to confront the unspoken yet ever-present doubt that prospective patients may have: “If this therapy couldn’t help the person who discovered it, why should I think that it will help me?” The sad fact is that not every therapy—event the most successful ones—can help everyone. We do not yet know the full story behind Williams’ death and just as the NTSB takes a year or two sometimes to complete its investigation of aviation accidents, it may be a while before we know what role, if any, SAINT played in Williams’ condition.

Until then, the neuromodulation industry and the psychiatric community should do all that it can to honor the legacy of this fallen test pilot. It may well turn out that his death, just as his life, will provide important information that will help treat patients in the future.