In the early morning darkness in a small Texas town, the unimaginable happened on the Fourth of July. What was once a quiet, elevated neighborhood far above the riverbanks was reduced to a shattered landscape of debris, torn foundations, and haunting silence. Texas residents, stunned and shaken, now sift through what’s left of their homes and their lives after a catastrophic flash flood tore through their community.
Ben Bergquam, host of Real Americas Voice show Law and Border, was on the ground on Saturday, just one day after the waters receded, interviewing survivors in one of the hardest-hit neighborhoods. His interview with one couple painted a picture of sheer survival and raw emotion in the face of loss.
“We were way above the river. Way above,” the wife recounted, still in disbelief. “We had no idea it would come this far.”
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She had put on a life jacket—her husband’s old sporting gear—because she couldn’t swim. That jacket, she believes, saved her life. Their two dogs were with them; tragically, only one made it out. In the pitch black around 5 a.m., they bobbed through icy water, gripping trees, calling 911, praying for rescue. “My husband grabbed me. We were hanging onto a tree. I had surgery recently. I was exhausted.”
Moments later, the house next door—completely torn from its foundation—smashed into theirs. “We had just gotten out… it would’ve crushed us.” Inside that neighboring house was a family. “I heard only the son survived,” she said quietly. “I don’t know about the wife or the baby. They said they didn’t make it.”
Amid the ruins, the woman began sorting through the wreckage, hoping to salvage a purse, a few clothes, a memory. A cabinet survived, oddly intact. But their second dog remains missing. “I don’t know why I left her,” she whispered.
Bergquam noted the staggering power of the flood: “The water was at least 20 feet over that house. The house was swept away, slammed into another, and kept moving. Whole homes are gone.”
The survivor pointed to a tree line where she and her husband were pulled to safety. “If we had gone past those trees,” she said, gesturing to a stretch near the river, “we would’ve been gone.”
There were no flood sirens. No real warning. “They always warn about hail, about tornadoes—but nothing about this. They should’ve told people, Stay away from the river. Evacuate. We had no clue.”
“One of the blessings in tragedy,” Bergquam reflected, “is it shows you who your friends are. It strips away everything petty. It’s about family, community, and standing up for each other. That’s America.”
This disaster, striking just as Independence Day approached, reminded many of what true patriotism looks like: neighbors risking everything to help each other, people clinging to hope when everything else has been ripped away.
“Outside of the loss of life,” Bergquam said, “this is what America is supposed to be—united. Our prayer now is that this spirit of unity and resilience doesn’t fade when the water does.”