The idyllic summer camp was supposed to be a place of laughter, friendship, and cherished memories. Instead, for countless families in Central Texas, it has become a landscape of unimaginable dread. When Michael McCown heard of the devastating flash floods that ripped through the region on Friday, July 4, 2025, his world narrowed to one terrifying thought: his daughter, Linnie, was at Camp Mystic, among the youngest girls in the “Bubble Inn” cabin. As recovery efforts continue and the death toll from the unprecedented deluge climbs to 51, including 15 children, McCown has undertaken a solitary, heartbreaking pilgrimage through the mud-soaked wreckage, driven by a father’s desperate hope to find his little girl and bring her home.
The Search for Linnie: A Father’s Unyielding Resolve
Michael McCown raced from Austin to the Texas Hill Country as soon as news of the catastrophic flooding reached him. His precious daughter, Linnie, an 8-year-old full of life, had been enjoying her time at Camp Mystic, a beloved Christian summer camp near Hunt, Texas. She was part of the “Bubble Inn” cabin, a place where young campers had been singing songs, decorating bunk beds, and forming the bonds of lifelong friendships just hours before disaster struck.
The deluge that hit Central Texas in the early hours of Friday was truly unprecedented, with reports indicating some areas received the equivalent of months of rain in just a few short hours. This massive wall of water swept through the area, tragically claiming at least 51 lives, including 15 children. Among the missing are approximately two dozen girls from Camp Mystic, and Linnie is one of them.
McCown’s desperate search led him first to churches and official registration points, even to the local morgue to investigate a potential match. But Linnie remained unaccounted for. Driven by an unshakeable need to see the camp with his own eyes, McCown navigated around fallen debris and treacherous potholes carved by the river’s destructive path. He arrived at the “Bubble Inn” cabin, a place now filled with waterlogged stuffed animals and scattered personal items. He carefully picked up charm bracelets and looked at photos still clinging to the walls, hoping to gather mementos for the families of the 14 girls who were in that specific cabin and are now missing.
“I’m just going to walk,” he declared, embarking on a solitary trek through the camp property, along the river bend walled off by limestone bluffs. He stepped over broken tree limbs and tangled vegetation, remnants of the violent wall of water. “I’m going to walk until I find something,” he repeated, a mantra of hope and despair.
Heroism and Heartbreak: The Camp Director’s Sacrifice
During his agonizing walk, McCown passed the site where Camp Mystic director Richard “Dick” Eastland was found, alongside three girls he had desperately tried to save. Craig Althaus, who worked on the property for 25 years, recounted finding some surviving girls clinging to trees and perched on cabin roofs. He solemnly stated, “Dick died doing what he loved – taking care of those girls.”
The Eastland family has managed Camp Mystic for nearly a century, transforming the riverfront property into a haven for young girls. Richard Eastland Jr., Dick’s son, explained that his father attempted to rescue the girls from the “Bubble Inn” cabin, which was situated about 150 yards from the river’s edge and 15 feet above the normal water level. However, the water’s rise was incredibly swift. Girls in adjoining cabins were forced to scramble up steep rock faces in the dark.
The “Twins” and “Bubble” cabins, where the youngest campers slept, were hit particularly hard as water converged from both the south fork of the Guadalupe River and a nearby creek. “It made like a swirl right around those cabins like a toilet bowl,” Althaus vividly described. Richard Eastland Jr.’s brother, Edward, also valiantly tried to rescue girls in the “Twins” cabins, where water rose nearly 20 feet in just 20 minutes. “We’ve never had water like this,” Eastland Jr. said, expressing disbelief. “I just can’t believe it. It felt like every minute, the water rose by a foot.”
Seasonal Mexican and Polish workers at the camp also played a crucial role, rushing girls to higher ground, despite the challenges of scrambling with young children.
As McCown continued his poignant journey, he passed by piles of soaked mattresses and pastel-colored trunks, decorated with stickers, that had been moved by rescuers. Other fathers and grandfathers were also arriving, sifting through personal belongings left behind – embroidered towels, shampoo bottles, shoes – each item a heart-wrenching reminder of a missing child.
Wearing his University of Texas burnt orange and rain boots, McCown walked for about a mile along the river’s edge. He eventually saw something, a body. But it wasn’t Linnie. He immediately alerted officials from the Texas Department of Public Safety, and a helicopter was dispatched. “She’s out there somewhere with all her friends,” McCown said, describing his daughter as “the sweetest little thing” and “the most selfless little girl.”
Later, a dazed man, another father in search of his missing daughter, approached McCown, holding up a phone with a photo. “Did the girl you found look like her?” he asked. McCown looked closely, but it wasn’t her. The man walked away without a word, a shared look of profound anguish passing between the two fathers.
The National Weather Service continues to issue flood watches, with more rain forecast through Saturday night and Sunday, which could further complicate the desperate search efforts.
The Unending Echo of “Where Are They?”
The personal agony of Michael McCown’s search for Linnie encapsulates the deep and widespread grief gripping Central Texas. The devastating floods have not only claimed lives and destroyed property but have also left an indelible mark of uncertainty and heartache for families awaiting news of their missing children. As the recovery continues, the question “Where are they?” remains a haunting echo across the ravaged landscape, a testament to the innocence lost and the enduring, relentless love of those who refuse to give up hope.
