A Summer Camp Turned Tragedy: 24 Dead, Over 20 Children Missing After Texas Flood

It was supposed to be a joyful summer escape — laughter by the river, campfires under the stars, and memories made at a beloved camp nestled in the Texas Hill Country. Instead, it turned into a nightmare that families will never forget.

As America prepared to celebrate the Fourth of July, a wall of water came without mercy. The Guadalupe River, normally a peaceful ribbon through the landscape, swelled by 26 feet in under an hour — faster than anyone could have imagined. Entire cabins, cars, and mobile homes were ripped from the ground as the water surged through the area like a freight train.

At least 24 lives have been lost. More than 20 children are still unaccounted for.

Among the chaos were children who had come to Camp Mystic — more than 750 girls gathered at a beloved summer retreat that, for nearly a hundred years, had helped young hearts grow braver, stronger, and forever connected through friendship. Since 1926, generations of girls have run barefoot through its fields and shared secrets under the trees. Now, the camp lies in silence — no power, no water, no WiFi — cut off from the world as worried families wait for news.

“It’s not that they’re all lost,” said Texas Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick, trying to offer a glimmer of hope. “Some may just be out of communication.” But for the parents, every minute stretches like eternity.

Dalton Rice, the city manager of Kerrville, could hardly believe what he witnessed. “The storm just settled right over the river’s headwaters,” he said, still shaken. “It poured more rain than anyone had predicted — and it happened so fast.” Within moments, the water surged from 7 feet to a staggering 29. What were once two quiet branches of the Guadalupe River suddenly united into a single, raging torrent that tore through everything in its path.

Rescue efforts began immediately. Over 100 troopers, swift water rescue teams, boats, helicopters — anything that could float, fly, or dive — were dispatched. Colonel Freeman Martin of the Texas Department of Public Safety shared that rescue teams had been working around the clock, refusing to rest, even as exhaustion set in. “They’re giving everything they’ve got,” he said, “because lives are still out there waiting to be saved.”

Governor Greg Abbott vowed that the state would spare no resource to bring every person home. “We will stop at nothing,” he said. “Every person, every asset, every helicopter — whatever is needed — will be used.”

Even President Trump addressed the nation, calling the floods “a terrible thing.” His tone softened as he acknowledged the painful truth: “It looks like some young people have died.” He pledged federal support in this time of heartbreak.

Right now, the communities of Kerrville, Ingram, and Hunt are caught in a quiet, aching pause — holding their breath as the waters slowly pull back. The river may be calming, but the heartbreak it left behind is only beginning to settle in.

This tragedy isn’t just a headline. It’s a mother clutching her phone, hoping it rings. It’s a father staring at a soaked backpack left behind. It’s friends waiting to see familiar faces walk off rescue helicopters. And it’s a community that must now rebuild not just what was lost, but what can never be replaced.

And yet — in the middle of all this sorrow — something powerful is rising too.

Strangers have become search partners. Neighbors are housing families. Volunteers are flooding in from across Texas. The same current that took so much has also revealed the strength of the human spirit.

These children came to camp to learn courage, to find their voices, to believe in who they were becoming. Now, in the wake of tragedy, it’s the world that’s showing up — holding on to hope, believing fiercely in their return.

Hold your loved ones close tonight. And when the rain ends, remember: even the darkest floods can’t drown out the light of hope.