Matthew Childress: My Hell on Earth has a mission

(Editor’s note: This commentary originally appeared in the Houston Chronicle on Oct. 22, and Matthew Childress provided a copy to The Kerr County Lead.)

Friday, the University of Texas hosted a flag-lowering ceremony in honor of two freshman girls who were gone too soon. They flew a flag at half-staff in honor of my daughter Chloe Childress and her Camp Mystic “Bubble Inn” co-counselor, Katherine Ferruzzo. As hundreds gathered, the UT band played “Taps” and “The Eyes of Texas,” ending with the firing of Smokey the Cannon. With our “horns up,” a flag lowered as friends and family — and even many strangers to us — gathered in celebration of Chloe’s and Katherine’s heroism during the nightmare of July 4. 

When flash floods hit the Texas Hill Country, plans put in place by the Eastland family, which runs Camp Mystic, instructed Chloe and Katherine to “stay in place” with their cabin of 8- and 9-year-old girls. They obeyed authority, and it killed them.

I’m grateful to the people who gathered at the flag ceremony. But at the same time, remembering Chloe that way is a hell I cannot escape. 

She is still my Sweetpea, my Maximus, my Machine, my Hero. But she did not turn 19 two weeks ago, as she should have. She is supposed to be a Theta at the University of Texas, an aspiring doctor, cheering on the Longhorns at football games, running around campus like she owns the place.

She won’t be in the stands, beside me and my wife, Wendie, watching Texas beat OU. We won’t see her on Parents Weekend. 

Our world is shattered.

In our grief, we were part of a coalition of victims’ families that lobbied to pass legislation to honor Chloe and the other “Heaven’s 27” girls who died under preventable circumstances while in the Eastlands’ care. In just three weeks during the special session of the Texas Legislature, we worked with state leadership, senators and representatives to pass meaningful, long-overdue laws to address safety gaps in Texas’ camp industry.

These laws ensure that — beginning next summer — no child will sleep in a floodplain, emergency plans will have common-sense substance, and parents will have access to information about kids’ safety before entrusting their children to a summer camp in Texas. 

We achieved our goal: to save kids’ lives at camps in the future. But it did not bring Chloe back.

As this awful reality sinks in, I find myself repeatedly apologizing to Chloe. My job as a father was to protect her, something I did her entire life. 

But I wasn’t the only one who was supposed to keep Chloe safe. The Eastland/Stacy family has run the camp since 1939. Their primary responsibility was to protect Chloe and the other girls under their care at camp. They failed. 

And now, the Eastlands are hiding behind tradition, camp nostalgia and rhetoric to avoid the consequences of their actions. 

Earlier this month, Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick and House Speaker Dustin Burrows announced the creation of joint House and Senate Investigating Committees to investigate what happened during the July 2025 floods.

They emphasized a desire to investigate the specifics of what happened, in particular at Camp Mystic, the only camp in the Hill Country that lost young campers’ and counselors’ lives. 

Wendie and I are eager for those answers. We believe this investigation can uncover the truth about how 27 girls died while in the care of the Eastlands. It should provide transparency, not just for us, but for the public and parents everywhere — so we can all understand what failed and how to prevent those failures in the future. 

As the investigation proceeds, I am confident we will learn about how it was not just a storm that killed my daughter. Reckless decision-making and deliberate indifference did. I am confident it will show that a for-profit camp knowingly put children in cabins in a floodway with no flood evacuation plan. I am confident it will show that camp officials told children to stay in their cabins for hours while the water rose around them. One minute of action could have saved them all. These girls died because they followed camp policy and instructions to stay in their cabins during a raging flood.

I recently had to explain to my 15-year-old son, who is now an only child, that the camp where his big sister was killed just announced plans to reopen. The Eastland family sent a note to parents of the deceased girls telling us they were going to reopen their Cypress Lake facility — and that they would also create a memorial in honor of the “Heaven’s 27.” 

Less than two hours later, a second email went to a broader audience of alumni and campers announcing intentions to rebuild, and that re-enrollment would open soon for Summer 2026. Seven members of the Eastland family signed the email.

Let me be clear: We parents of “Heaven’s 27” were not asked about the camp reopening. We were not asked about a memorial for our children. 

It’s been just over three months since 27 girls died in Camp Mystic’s care, and one girl, Cile Steward, remains missing. Cile was 8 years old on the night of the flood.

To reopen with a lost camper still not recovered is unfathomable. It’s likely that her body is still in the river where next summer’s campers will swim.

But the Eastlands go on. Business as usual. 

Cile Steward’s family has not been able to memorialize her, because the search for Cile hasn’t ended. Camp Mystic’s priorities and resources should be focused on that search.  

We must find Cile. And we must demand accountability and answers from the Eastlands.  

It is encouraging that the state of Texas agrees with us. We hope that investigation committee members ask thorough and tough questions. 

We also hope that all talk about reopening Camp Mystic is halted until there is an evaluation of the Eastlands’ leadership, which has the scars of 27 lives lost and one girl yet to be reunited with her family.

At the UT ceremony, tears fell as the flag lowered. I could not protect Chloe on July 4, but as her dad, I am going to do what I know is right, one hellish day at a time. I will keep fighting to honor her by making sure the causes of the Camp Mystic tragedy are known and making sure that future campers and counselors will be safe. My hell on Earth has a mission.

Matthew Childress is the father of Chloe Childress, who died when Camp Mystic flooded.