The Fourth of July weekend was supposed to be another peaceful family retreat for RJ Harber and his loved ones at their riverside cabin in Hunt, Texas. Instead, it became a nightmare. Around 3:30 a.m., RJ was jolted awake by pounding rain and realized floodwaters were rapidly rising. He and his wife, Annie, leapt into action, grabbing what they could before jumping out a window into neck-high water. Within minutes, RJ was in a borrowed kayak, fighting to reach their two daughters—11-year-old Brooke and 13-year-old Blair—who were staying in a nearby cabin with their grandparents.
As RJ paddled through the black, rushing current, he was struck by a post. Debris was flying around him—cars, trees, and even entire cabins. He realized with agonizing clarity that to go further would be suicide. He turned back, helpless. Moments later, after finding shelter with neighbors on higher ground, RJ checked his phone. Against all odds, a text had come through: “I love you,” sent by Brooke at 3:30 a.m. Annie received the same words from both daughters, their last messages sent into the storm.
When the sun rose, the devastation came into full view. The river had torn through the Casa Bonita cabin community like a blade, wiping out most of the homes. Only a few remained. The cabin where the girls and their grandparents had stayed was gone without a trace. Hours later, Blair and Brooke’s bodies were recovered 12 miles downstream. Their grandparents, Mike and Charlene Harber, remain missing.
RJ, a seasoned kayaker and Dallas lawyer, had been visiting that camp area since childhood. He knew the river. He never imagined it could rise so fast, without warning. “I knew if I took even one stroke further, it was going to be a death sentence,” he recalled, haunted. The flood warnings that came earlier had not included their area—no alerts, no time to prepare, only the rushing sound of water devouring the world they had built.
The Harber family had owned their Casa Bonita cabin since 2020. It was a place of joy, of summer games, fishing, and laughter echoing through the trees. But those memories are now marked by unbearable loss. “Unfortunately,” RJ said quietly, “all those great memories are now a bad memory.”
Their daughters’ final messages—simple, loving, full of light—have become the family’s most sacred keepsakes. In those final moments, before the storm took everything, Blair and Brooke somehow found a way to say goodbye.
