My heart tell me the Eastlands were good people. People who loved the camp and the children entrusted to them. And if Mr. Eastland were here today, I believe he'd be doing the exact opposite of what we’ve seen from city, county, and state leaders. He would raise his hand and say: “I’m sorry. I should have done better.”
Just look at the difference between someone like Mr. Eastland and Ingram City Councilman Raymond Howard. One died in his car on what amounted to a suicide mission to save several young women. The other stood on the bank and shouted to a child being swept downriver to “grab a tree or something.” Both bore responsibility—one as a camp owner, the other as an elected official who ignored ample warning—and both failed to meet the standard of care expected of them. Their failures didn’t start when the river rose; they began long before the first drops of rain.
Why wasn’t someone at Camp Mystic awake and monitoring conditions that night? In the aftermath, there have been references to a longtime maintenance staffer who, in years past, would stay up overnight during storms to monitor the river. When did that practice stop—and more importantly, why? Maybe it didn’t. Maybe someone was there and fell asleep to the droning of a weather radio. But if that’s true, it only compounds the tragedy. The cabins along the riverbank were known to be vulnerable, even under less extreme circumstances. And when you're housing 750 children on a property with limited elevation, that should demand not just caution, but heightened, even obsessive vigilance—especially during storms. That level of care shouldn’t be optional. It should be institutionalized.
I haven’t even started allocating accountability to county or state officials. But after six days, I’ve grown weary of the deflections, the self-pity, and the contempt for legitimate questions from the media and the public. This isn’t about politics. It’s about basic human decency. It's about wanting to know why so many people—so many children—died.
Evasion and hostility aren’t damage control. They’re accelerants. We shouldn't still be asking for answers. We should be demanding them. Not just for the sake of accountability, but out of respect for Aidan Heartfield, Chloe Childress, Jane Ragsdale, Hanna and Rebecca Lawrence, and the many others who lost their lives.
Because the truth is owed—to them, to their families, and in particular, to every parent of a child that isn't coming home.