Business owner Vinnie Mifsud had planned to spend the night with his family in their RV overlooking the Guadalupe River in Kerrville, Texas, before the town’s big July 4 celebration.
He frequently spends weekends camping on his riverfront property. The night of July 3 would have been no different—except for a quarrel that broke out between Mifsud and his 16-year-old son that likely saved their lives.
Mifsud runs Glow Row, a unique experience that allows customers to rent kayaks with clear bottoms with attached lights for night trips on the river.
It was about 10 p.m. on July 3, and Mifsud was getting the last kayakers out of the water as lightning began to flash in the distance.
His son, Daniel Mifsud, went to unlock the facility’s gate but was taking too long, Mifsud said.
“You know how teenagers are,” Mifsud said with a chuckle. “I got upset with him.”
Before their tiff, Mifsud had thought about calling his wife to bring their dog so they could all spend the night in the RV, especially since July 4 was going to be a busy day on the water with some 20 people signed up to kayak.
“If I would have done that, we would all perish that night,” he said.
Vendors had come from all over for the celebration, and the city set up a giant stage for musical performances to celebrate America’s 249th birthday.
Lots of folks were camping by the river that night, he said.
Mifsud said it was drizzling as they drove to their home, less than an hour away.
What he woke up to when he returned seemed unreal—a 30-foot-deep deluge had washed away his RV and his kayaks.
“I mean, it’s horrific what we’re going through. We need help,” he said.
Mifsud fought back tears as he looked out over the devastation surrounding his property on July 9.
As he walked around the property, he pointed out huge chunks of concrete culverts scattered like toy building blocks some 30 yards from the Francisco Lemos Bridge.
Parts of splintered tree trunks and branches were flung around the ground like pick-up sticks.
A torrent of water had wedged a mangled blue camping tent against a tree near the river. A pillow dangled from a branch some 30 feet off the ground. A sleeping bag was found nearby.
The bodies of two children were found on his property, Mifsud said, his voice breaking.
His son said he was glad he survived so he could help the people around him.
“If they’re still alive and they live here, give back because God gave them their life,” Daniel Mifsud said.
On July 9, authorities updated Kerr County’s death toll to 95, including 59 adults and 36 children, with more than 160 people still unaccounted for. Overall, more than 100 people have died in the Hill Country flooding.
Many of those who perished were at Camp Mystic, a summer camp for girls located along the Guadalupe, where five campers and one counselor remain unaccounted for.
Like many people who live near the river or own property there, the older Mifsud signed up for what’s called the CodeRED alert system. He said he got an alert at 6:30 a.m. on July 4 and noticed it had been issued an hour earlier.
Mifsud said he doesn’t know what happened but he said something more needs to be done to keep something like this from happening again.
If there had been a siren or some advanced warning when the water rose sharply in Hunt, perhaps the hardest hit area of the county, then maybe it could have made a difference, Mifsud said.
Others also complained about the alert system.
At the daily press conference, Kerr County Sheriff Larry Leitha was asked about an alleged delay that occurred after an Ingram Volunteer Fire Department commander asked a Kerr County Sheriff dispatcher to issue an alert.
Leitha said the county’s response would be examined but for now, the focus would remain on recovering the missing.
“Those questions are going to be answered,” he said. “I believe those questions need to be answered ... to the families of missed loved ones, to the public, to the people that put me in this office.”
