In the pre-dawn hours of July 4, 2025, a monstrous surge of water swept through Kerr County, Texas, bringing with it a nightmare few could have foreseen. Along the normally serene Guadalupe River, families celebrating the holiday weekend at campgrounds and RV parks were jolted awake by rising waters that showed no mercy. At the center of the unfolding emergency is the disappearance of the Burgess family—John Burgess, Julia Anderson Burgess, and their two young sons, who were last known to be staying overnight in their RV at the Jellystone Park Campground in Kerrville. Since the water overtook the area, the family has been unreachable, and their whereabouts remain unknown.

The scale of the disaster is staggering. The Kerr County Sheriff’s Office confirmed that the Guadalupe River surged nearly 30 feet in the span of just four hours overnight, an escalation that transformed a modest holiday weekend into one of the deadliest flood events in Central Texas history. With 13 confirmed deaths and dozens still missing, the region now finds itself in a full-blown state of emergency, with active evacuations underway and search-and-rescue operations pushing into their second day.

For the Burgess family, the trip to Kerrville was meant to be a peaceful retreat—a time for bonding and celebrating amid the scenic beauty of the Hill Country. Jellystone Park, known for its family-friendly amenities and wooded riverside campsites, was a popular choice for such occasions. But the park’s proximity to the Guadalupe River placed it directly in the path of the surging floodwaters, which tore through the area with unimaginable speed and force.

“It was meant to be a calm family weekend,” said one evacuee who was also staying at Jellystone. “But it escalated into chaos within moments. One minute the river was calm, the next it was in our campsite.” As floodwaters swept through cabins, tents, and RVs, families scrambled to escape. Some clung to trees. Others were pulled to safety by swift-water rescue crews. But for the Burgess family, no such moment of rescue has yet been confirmed.

Authorities were alerted early in the morning to multiple reports of people missing from the campground. The Burgess family’s name quickly rose to prominence among those feared swept away. Family members, upon learning they had not been heard from, issued statements of concern. Efforts to reach them by phone were unsuccessful, and their vehicle was unaccounted for among the debris fields.

Rescue operations were immediately initiated with the coordination of local law enforcement, Kerr County Emergency Management, and state and federal agencies. More than 400 emergency responders and 18 helicopters were deployed across the region. Swift-water rescue teams scoured riverbanks and forested areas, often working in dangerous conditions where roadways had been washed out or entirely submerged. Despite their efforts, the conditions in Kerrville and surrounding towns like Hunt and Ingram have complicated recovery.

“This isn’t over,” said one Kerr County official during a press briefing on Friday morning. “The river continues to rise in some areas. Our focus remains on ensuring life safety and finding the missing.”

The fear for the Burgess family is compounded by the scale and speed of the flooding. Meteorologists confirmed that the storm responsible for the flooding hovered over the region for hours, releasing torrents of rain that overran tributaries and caused the Guadalupe River to burst its banks. Weather instruments registered an increase from near-zero to 30 feet of river height in less than four hours—numbers typically associated with Category 5 hurricanes or catastrophic dam failures. It was, by all accounts, an extraordinary natural event.

As the storm’s deluge poured into the river basin, the topography of the Hill Country—its steep ridges, narrow valleys, and limestone surfaces—funneled the water with explosive force. By the time it reached Kerrville, Hunt, and Ingram, the wave was devastating. Emergency shelters were established throughout the region, while flood alerts continued into Saturday, with officials warning of more rainfall on already oversaturated ground.

Back at Jellystone Park, much of the campground has been reduced to splinters and mud. Aerial footage from search helicopters showed RVs crushed against trees, overturned picnic tables, and entire cabins dislodged and relocated hundreds of yards downstream. The familiar signs and mascots that welcomed families to the campground are either destroyed or submerged.

Those who survived the ordeal have begun to share harrowing tales. One man, camping with his daughter, described how they were awakened by a gurgling sound. “The water was already inside the RV when I opened the door,” he said. “I grabbed my daughter and climbed out the window. We barely made it to higher ground.”

The absence of the Burgess family has taken a particular emotional toll on the community. Social media has been flooded with posts calling for prayers and urging anyone with information to come forward. Photos of John and Julia, along with their sons, have been widely circulated in hopes of locating them or finding someone who may have seen them in the chaos.

Officials have asked residents to report any sightings or signs of vehicles, debris, or bodies along the riverbanks. Drones equipped with infrared cameras are being used during nighttime searches to detect heat signatures in hard-to-reach areas. Despite the advanced tools and manpower, the sheer scale of the disaster has made progress slow.

As families gather in temporary shelters or remain glued to phones for updates, the grief of those who have already received the worst news deepens. The identities of the 13 confirmed fatalities have not yet been released pending next-of-kin notification, but officials have warned that the number is likely to rise. Some bodies have already been recovered as far as 10 miles downstream from Kerrville, underscoring just how far the water carried victims.

The flood has also reignited broader discussions about climate resilience and infrastructure preparedness in rural Texas. With flash floods becoming increasingly common, especially in the Hill Country, experts have urged for better early warning systems, stricter zoning around rivers, and reinforced evacuation plans for high-occupancy recreational areas like Jellystone Park.

Local leaders, including Kerr County Judge Rob Kelly and Sheriff Larry Leitha, have pledged full transparency once family notifications are complete and search efforts wind down. “Our hearts are broken,” Judge Kelly said at a press event. “But we will not stop searching. Every missing person matters. Every family deserves answers.”

The U.S. Coast Guard and FEMA remain active in the region, with federal disaster declarations expected in the coming days. Additional shelter resources and mental health counseling are being deployed to support displaced families and traumatized survivors.

Meanwhile, the Burgess family’s story remains one of many, but it is a symbol of the pain, fear, and urgency defining this crisis. In the coming days, their fate may become clear. Until then, prayers, rescue missions, and public vigilance are the only threads of hope still available.

As emergency crews continue their tireless work and families like the Burgesses hang in the balance, one message echoes throughout Kerr County: this is far from over. The flood’s aftermath is just beginning.