Awful moment CBS reporter asks Texas floods dad how his son is doing only to receive the worst news possible
J.J. Jarmon, a flood survivor from near Big Sandy Creek, had been speaking with a reporter from CBS Austin when the interview took a tragic turn.
Unaware of the full scope of Jarmon's tragedy, the reporter inquired about his family.
'Your son has been found? How's he doing?' the reporter asked.
Jarmon's devastating response quickly clarified the horrific situation: 'He is no longer,' the father replied.
The reporter admitted he 'misunderstood' what Jarmon had previously said about his family, adding, 'I'm so sorry.'
Jarmon vividly recounted the terrifying moment floodwaters surged, waking him with 'loud bangs and a watery sound' against his back wall.
He watched in horror as his boats, once in located his yard, were gone, realizing 'the water had taken them down the stream.'
While Jarmon miraculously managed to climb to safety, his wife, Alissa, and 15-year-old son, Braxton, were killed.
His 16-year-old daughter, Felicity, remained missing.
The interviewer continued, saying 'I'm so sorry for your losses' before asking Jarmon, 'How are you feeling today?'
The father responded that he was 'managing the past few days since this has happened.'
'The anxiety of it is really crazy because I'm not really happy with the fact that [Felicity] hasn't been found.
'I'm happy for all the support, and I do understand there's a lot of circumstances, debris.'
Toward the end of the exchange, the interviewer said that he didn't want to ask an 'insensitive question,' but still questioned whether Jarmon had 'any hope at all at this point' that his daughter would be found alive.
'I really don't think so,' Jarmon replied. 'There's no way.'
At least 132 people have died in the flash floods that torn through the Hill Country region of Texas, and more than 100 people are still believed to be missing as recovery efforts are ongoing.
Among those killed in the tragedy were 27 campers and counselors at Camp Mystic, a century-old all-girls Christian summer camp.
Officials said five campers and one counselor from the camp have still not been found.
Community members are urgently calling on city and county officials to implement a warning system to prevent deadly disasters, such as floods and tornadoes.
Nearly 43,000 people had signed an online petition as of Tuesday morning requesting that old-fashioned outdoor sirens be installed across Kerr County, where the majority of fatalities occurred.
Authorities have faced scrutiny over the region's emergency alert system since the Guadalupe River swelled and broke its banks in the middle of night on July 4, with many locals alleging the alert response was delayed or never came at all.
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The Independent
20 minutes ago
- The Independent
Ground squirrels are taking over a North Dakota city and officials are not amused
The Richardson's ground squirrel weighs less than a pound, is about a foot long and is native to the northern Plains. The little creature also is a ferocious tunneler, and it's exasperating the people of Minot, North Dakota, where it's burrowing everywhere from vacant lots to the middle of town, and growing more plentiful over the past two decades. Now North Dakota's fourth-largest city is fighting back, but even the pest control guy leading the charge acknowledges that it will be difficult to turn the tide against the rodent. An uphill battle Joshua Herman said fighting the squirrels is akin to 'one guy standing against a massive storm.' 'If I'm trapping but my neighbor isn't, well then, we're really not going to get anywhere with it, long-term,' Herman said. Ground squirrels have been an issue in Minot, a city of nearly 50,000 people, for at least 20 years, but the problem has dramatically worsened in the last few years, said Minot Street Department Superintendent Kevin Braaten. It's unclear how many of the squirrels live in Minot but it likely nears or even exceeds the city's population. 'Gosh, there's got to be tens of thousands of them in the area,' Herman said. Officials in the city, a green spot along the winding Souris River surrounded by farmland and grassy prairie, know they can't get rid of the squirrels, but hope to simply get the rodent numbers down. 'I don't see the population ever going to zero,' Braaten said. 'I mean, it's almost impossible by the numbers that we have.' Put another way, Minot won't be able to rid itself of the squirrels because the animals have lived on the prairie for centuries. Outside of town, predators like coyotes, badgers, owls and even snakes love to dine on the squirrels. But in residential neighborhoods and even downtown, where few of their predators live, the rodents can roam pretty freely. Greg Gullickson, an outreach biologist with the North Dakota Game and Fish Department, adds that the squirrels now have fewer grassland areas available to them and like the mowed spots they find in town. No land is safe Female squirrels typically give birth to litters of about six babies a year, so it's easy to see how their numbers can quickly soar. Herman said he kills 3,500 to 5,000 of them a year, primarily by putting snares and carbon monoxide into the holes, and using an air rifle. 'I've had calls downtown, calls in the mall, along the highways, here at the airport — really every part of the city I've done trapping for ground squirrels here in Minot,' Herman said as he checked his traps along an apartment building and shoveled dirt over holes. Herman says they damage driveways, sidewalks and lawns; create tripping hazards with their holes and can harbor disease from fleas. Along an apartment building, the squirrels had dug under a concrete slab and against the foundation. Nearby in a vacant lot, the rodents popped in and out of holes. Ground squirrels near Pashone Grandson's ground-level apartment dig holes near her door and eat her plants. One squirrel even got around her baby gate at the door and into her daughter's clothes in her bedroom. 'It was a little scary. You don't know what disease they carry. They're dirty. I have a young daughter ... I didn't know if it was going to bite her,' Grandson said. North of town, Minot Air Force Base, which houses bombers and intercontinental ballistic missiles, has fought the ground squirrels for years. Earlier this month, the base said it had trapped more than 800 'dak-rats,' a base name for the rodents. Base officials declined to comment on the squirrels. Jared Edwards, facilities director for Minot Public Schools, which has three schools on the base, said residential areas of the base and runways are overrun by ground squirrels. He called it 'a continuous battle for them for the last 75 years since the base has been there." 'I'm not going to exaggerate: They're by the millions out there,' Edwards said. In town, three school properties have large populations of ground squirrels, he said. Last year, the school system began using snares, and for years before that had used poison. 'It's something you have to keep up with. It is Mother Nature," Edwards said, adding that they've probably been in the area since homesteaders came through. A cute nuisance Still, not everyone sees the squirrels as a pest. Some find the critters cute and fuzzy. Herman said people have sabotaged, stolen or thrown out his traps. They occasionally confront him when he shoots at ground squirrels with an air rifle, scolding him for hurting the wildlife, he said. 'They get that cute association, and they are, you know, adorable, but they're a vermin and a pest and dangerous when they are allowed to proliferate,' Herman said.
The Guardian
7 hours ago
- The Guardian
Summer camp scramble: US families need it, but it can cost as much as a month's rent
Summer camp had already begun for Tasmiha Khan's two sons when a work contract unexpectedly ended. Money was suddenly tight for the freelance communications strategist – and the $1,300 price for the school district's months-long summer camp became unaffordable. Khan had no choice but to pull her children out early. To give them an enriching summer, Khan tried a few alternatives. An Arabic immersion program still had spots open, but Khan wasn't impressed. She occasionally takes them to swim lessons at a local community college for just $38 per child per week. But she has to be present for those twice-weekly, 35-minute sessions – which doesn't give her much-needed time to work. 'Honestly, America's not sustainable for parents,' Khan said. 'I'm leaning on grandma to help out because I'm very much burnt out.' When school's out for summer, working parents of K-12 children face an annual high-stakes and often high-cost scramble to cobble together activities. The result is 'a really undercovered and also underfunded aspect of our safety net', according to journalist Katherine Goldstein, mother of three and the creator of The Double Shift newsletter on parenting. Fifty-five percent of all K-12 children, an estimated 30 million, participated in at least one form of summer enrichment program in 2024, according to that year's National Summer Learning Association-American Camp Association summer experiences survey. But only 38% of children in lower-income families ($50,000 or less annually) did so, compared to 67% of children in upper-income households ($100,000 or more). The solution for many families is to keep children at home and rely on friends and family to provide care. But camp can provide vital opportunities for socialization, learning and healthy food. Over six out of 10 lower income parents surveyed in 2024 wanted their children to have a camp experience. Yet, a third of US parents said that camp was financially out of reach. 'The kids who would most benefit from programming during the summer and having a safe place to be are not the ones who are going to summer camp,' Goldstein said. The US summer camp dates to approximately 150 years ago when wealthy families sent their children away from polluted cities to experience fresh air and outdoor activities, according to American Camp Association interim president and CEO, Henry DeHart. In the last 20 years, 'the biggest change is the rise in the interest in day camp', he said. Local day camps and weekly enrichment courses combined to make up 42% of the programs cited in the 2024 survey, compared to only 11% for overnight camp. Information about the cost of summer activities is hard to come by; it can vary widely according to the type of camp and location. However, the American Camp Association estimates that day camps cost between $73-87 per day per child, with overnight camps ranging from $150-173. Goldstein, a resident of Durham, North Carolina, calculated what nine weeks of camp would cost for her three children this year. It came to $10,000. Even for her upper middle-class family, a season of camp requires careful budgeting to afford. DeHart said that 93% of camps offer financial assistance. One such camp is Urban Roots in downtown Reno, Nevada, which runs eight- and nine-week programs for children aged five to 14 at its teaching farm and kitchen. Thirty percent of all slots go to scholarship students, offered on a sliding scale, said Jenny Angius, executive director of development and operations. The cost this year is $295 per child per week, or $2,655 for all nine weeks. The average rent in Reno is $1,950 per month. The scholarships can cover more than just tuition, such as camp supplies or even transportation support. All children receive free breakfast and lunch. This summer, Urban Roots also implemented payment plans through the end of the year 'so it doesn't feel like it's such a big hit for families, especially if they're coming multiple weeks or if they're sending multiple children', Angius said. Cost is not the only barrier, however. Many day camps do not run as long as the traditional workday. As a primarily outdoor camp, Urban Roots begins at 7.30am but ends at 2.30pm, in part to avoid the worst of the summer heat. This summer is the first in its 15 years of operation that it has received funding to provide extended care inside – but only until 4pm. Camps also rarely run all summer, requiring 'a huge amount of mental load and logistics', in Goldstein's words, to put together a summer's worth of programming. It starts with registration. Goldstein knows of public programs in Durham that fill up within two minutes of registration opening. Last year, Khan, the Chicago-area mother, and a friend texted each other reminders to set alarms for 10am on the day camp registration opened to claim spots. Since 2022, Emily Popek has created a public spreadsheet listing all area programs in and around New York's Otsego county, where she lives with her husband and daughter. This year, it categorizes 67 programs by number of weeks, age group and registration date. While that sounds like a wealth of options, only four of those programs run longer than a week. 'Every summer has just been this patchwork of care,' Popek said. And the Oneonta Boys and Girls Club program used to be free but started charging $100 per child per week this year. 'Daycare was a second mortgage for us,' Popek said. 'The cost of summer programs is basically comparable to that.' Popek's research inspired her to write an open letter to local officials in 2024 asking why no municipal or school district programs existed. She also surveyed more than 40 local parents about their summer camp struggles. By her count, 87% listed scheduling as a barrier – the same number who listed cost. A comparable number, 82%, reported taking off work to cover summer childcare. Forty-one percent of parents brought their children to work. 'The narrative from our community leaders is that their top priority is to make this a great place to raise a family,' Popek said. '[That] doesn't just mean that we have a splash pad and some pretty banners hanging on Main Street … It means we have to invest in the infrastructure that actually supports families.' Melissa Petro, whose seven-year-old son Oscar has generalized anxiety disorder and pathological demand avoidance, said: 'Camps won't even enroll kids like mine.' Her son needs a one-on-one aide. 'He's going to create havoc if he doesn't have supervision,' she said. But camps won't pay for or provide that service, and Petro estimates it would require at minimum $5,000. So Petro and her husband become camp counselors for the six weeks his outdoor therapeutic school is closed. Because Oscar thrives outside, they usually visit the school campus. They take long hikes. He swims in the manmade pond and climbs trees. He makes art. But he misses out on the peer socialization he needs. For those six weeks, Petro and her husband are essentially out of work. Last year, Petro had a book release in September but spent August with Oscar rather than working on promotion. 'Your whole life ends up revolving around accommodating your child,' she said. Anecdotal data suggests that parents are feeling the economic pinch even more this year. 'Day camps have started to fill a little bit more slowly,' DeHart said, noting that this is the first drop in enrollment rate since the pandemic. Many parents are turning their shared struggles into communal support. Khan recently invited an old friend and her two-year-old daughter over for dinner and a trip to a nearby park. Her sons loved playing with the toddler, and Khan's friend got some relief from parenting burnout. Popek has found carpool partners while talking to other parents. 'Being in community with other families has been the most uplifting thing for me,' she said. Goldstein is trying something new this summer. With the $10,000 she would have spent for camp, plus the $4,000 cost of a week at a state beach, she has created her own program. For the first half of the summer, a trusted babysitter is watching the children at home. Then, the family will spend five weeks in Costa Rica, including a month-long camp for the same price as a week-long program at home. 'I don't see my solution as a systemic [one],' Goldstein stressed, noting that both she and her husband work at home under flexible conditions. 'It's more of an experiment within the confines of a broken system,' she said. As Popek said: 'No one's coming to save us. We have to do it ourselves.'
The Independent
10 hours ago
- The Independent
Passengers reach settlement in $1 billion lawsuit over Alaska Airlines flight where door plug blew out at 16,000 feet
Three passengers who sued Alaska Airlines and Boeing after a door plug fell out of their plane at 16,000 feet have settled out of court. These passengers were on board Alaska Airlines Flight 1282 from Portland to Ontario, California on January 5, 2024, when a door plug suddenly flew off the Boeing 737 Max jet mid-air. They sued Alaska Airlines and Boeing for $1 billion last year but settled out of court earlier this month, according to KPTV. The lawsuit was dismissed on July 7 with prejudice, KPTV reports, which means they can't refile the same lawsuit later. Terms of the settlement were not disclosed as part of the settlement agreement, their attorney said. Last month, the National Transportation Safety Board ruled Boeing was at fault in the frightening incident. The agency said it found four bolts missing from the door plug, which caused it to slowly slide out of place for more than 100 flights until it finally fell off. In a statement, Boeing said the company 'regret[s] this accident' and will 'continue to work on strengthening safety and quality across our operations.' The agency says the 174 passengers on board were safe and accounted for thanks to the flight crew. Passengers said they were terrified for their lives, and reported the vacuum of air was so strong that personal belongings were sucked out. One person on board even said that his shirt was torn from his back. NTSB Chairwoman Jennifer Homendy said it's a 'miracle no one died.' 'This accident never should've happened,' Homendy said last month. 'Since this occurred there's been a lot of focus on human error – on the actions of one or two Boeing employees." 'Let me be clear, an accident like this does not happen because of an individual – or even a group of individuals – aviation is much more resilient than that – an accident like this only happens when there are multiple system failures," she added. Dozens of whistleblowers came forward last summer to describe their concerns about the company's safety protocols. Whistleblower Roy Irvin, who worked as a quality investigator for Boeing for six years, exclusively told The Independent that the 'door blowout really hit home for me because I predicted this.' "Things don't get brought to anybody's attention unless they're found,' he added. 'There's other things that probably haven't been found yet.'
