At approximately 1:30 a.m. on August 5, 2025, a mother waiting at the search site in Kerr County received a call from her daughter’s phone, which had been silent since the flood devastated Camp Mystic. The daughter, one of the five campers still missing, was among the 750 girls present at the camp when the Guadalupe River surged from 3 feet to nearly 35 feet in less than an hour

, resulting in the loss of 27 lives, including camp director Richard “Dick” Eastland and counselors such as 18-year-old Chloe Childress. The mother, whose identity remains confidential, reported a weak signal and indistinct words before the call abruptly ended. Although the specific details of the call have not been revealed, authorities confirmed that the final words provided a crucial clue, leading rescuers to redirect their efforts to a previously unsearched area downstream.

The origin of the call was traced back to a secluded area along the riverbank, situated roughly 12 miles from Camp Mystic, close to where Cypress Creek meets the Guadalupe River. This location, thick with cypress trees and flood debris, had been somewhat neglected due to the challenging terrain and the belief that survivors were improbable after 18 days. The faint signal indicates that the phone might have been submerged or damaged but briefly activated, potentially due to remaining battery life or environmental influences. Search teams, which include Coast Guard units, K-9 teams, and volunteers, have now deployed drones, boats, and ground crews to this new site, meticulously sifting through mud-covered debris and uprooted trees.

The Context of the Tragedy

The flooding on July 4, caused by the remnants of Tropical Storm Barry, was among the most lethal natural disasters in Texas history, resulting in at least 120 fatalities across Central Texas, with 95 occurring in Kerr County alone. Camp Mystic, a nearly century-old establishment recognized for promoting sisterhood and faith, suffered the most severe impact. The camp’s low-lying cabins, especially Bubble Inn, where many 8-year-olds, including Blakely McCrory and twins Hanna and Rebecca Lawrence, were sleeping, were overwhelmed when the river surged 26 feet in just 45 minutes. Counselors bravely evacuated hundreds, yet 27 campers and staff, including 15 children, were lost. As of July 29, 10 campers and one counselor were still missing, although recent reports suggest that only five campers remain unaccounted for, indicating that some may have been located or reclassified.

The discovery made near the mess hall earlier today—a personal item that remained untouched since the flood—has already intensified emotions. It was described as a touching reminder of those lost, having been found when rescuers noticed movement, possibly from wildlife or shifting debris, close to the camp’s central gathering area. This artifact, likely belonging to a camper such as a necklace or a letter, highlighted the ongoing sorrow of families like Lindsey McLeod McCrory, who lost her daughter Blakely, and John and Lacy Lawrence, who grieve for their twin daughters. The subsequent phone call has now altered the narrative from recovery to a faint glimmer of hope for survival.

A Community’s Resilience and Questions

The Camp Mystic community, which includes alumni such as Laura Bush and descendants of Texas governors, has united in support of the grieving families. Funds like the Kerr County Flood Relief Fund and memorials for victims such as Wynne Naylor and Lila Bonner have generated millions for recovery efforts. Nevertheless, the tragedy has raised questions regarding preparedness. Kerr County officials, including Sheriff Larry Leitha, have come under scrutiny for the absence of a river alarm system and a delayed response, as local authorities were not aware of the crisis until hours after it commenced. A flood watch was escalated to a warning at 1 a.m. on July 4, yet Camp Mystic’s emergency plans, which depended on relocating to higher ground, were overwhelmed by the rapidity of the flood.

Survivors such as 10-year-old Lucy Kennedy, who sang camp songs while waiting for rescue, and counselors like Ainslie, who saved 16 girls, exemplify the camp’s spirit of resilience. However, the extended search has taken a significant toll. Parents, including those of missing campers like Hadley Hanna and Kellyanne Lytal, have suffered weeks of distress, with some, like Lila Bonner’s family, finding closure only through the recovery of keepsakes such as stuffed animals.

A New Direction for Search Efforts

The mother’s call has instilled a sense of urgency into the ongoing search, which is now in its 32nd day. The newly designated focus area, located downstream near Lake Lyndon B. Johnson, presents significant challenges due to fast-moving currents and debris piles that complicate rescue efforts. More than 1,700 responders, including Coast Guard swimmer Scott Ruskan, who has successfully rescued 165 individuals, are continuing their relentless work. Governor Greg Abbott, who visited the site on July 5, emphasized that the state “will stop at nothing” to ensure every missing person is accounted for. The use of helicopters, drones, and canine units has increased, with volunteers meticulously sifting through mud in search of any signs of the missing girls.

The implications of the call are significant. If the phone belonged to the missing camper, it could indicate a potential survivor, although experts warn that surviving 18 days without food or clean water in the Texas heat is improbable. Alternatively, the phone may have been carried downstream, activated by coincidence, or even utilized by another individual. The weak signal corresponds with reports of inconsistent cell service in the area, which has impeded communication during the flood. Nevertheless, this clue has energized the community, with social media posts from families and alumni, such as Trinity University’s Wade Lytal, whose daughter Kellyanne is still missing, urging for prayers and miracles.

A Symbol of Hope Amid Grief

This recent development occurs as the nation grieves the confirmed losses, including vibrant young girls like Eloise Peck, who aspired to establish an animal rescue, and Renee Smajstrla, who was described as “living her best life” at camp. The untouched relic near the mess hall, along with the enigmatic call, has intensified the emotional burden of the tragedy while providing a flicker of hope. For the mother who received the call, the experience was both heart-wrenching and motivating, a brief connection to a daughter she steadfastly refuses to abandon.

As rescuers hurry to the newly designated search area, the Camp Mystic community anxiously awaits news. The Guadalupe River, which was once a place of happiness for canoeing and snorkeling, now serves as a poignant reminder of sorrow. Nevertheless, the sound of a silent phone ringing after 18 days has ignited a fresh resolve to seek answers. Whether this leads to a miraculous outcome or another step towards closure, this moment highlights the unwavering strength of a community united by faith, love, and the remembrance of its “Mystic Girls.”