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In the last nine years, federal funding for a system has been denied to the county as it contends with a tax base hostile to government overspending. By Terri Langford and Dan Keemahill for The Texas Tribune In the week after the tragic July 4 flooding in Kerr County, several officials have blamed taxpayer pressure as the reason flood warning sirens were never installed along the Guadalupe River. “The public reeled at the cost,” Kerr County Judge Rob Kelly told reporters one day after the rain pushed Guadalupe River levels more than 32 feet, resulting in nearly 100 deaths in the county, as of Thursday. Kerr County Judge Rob Kelly discusses the ongoing search and rescue efforts on July 5 in Kerrville, Texas, after flooding along the Guadalupe River. A community that overwhelmingly voted for President Donald Trump in 2016, 2020 and 2024, Kerr County constructed an economic engine on the allure of the Guadalupe River. Government leaders acknowledged the need for more disaster mitigation, including a $1 million flood warning system that would better alert the public to emergencies, to sustain that growth, but they were hamstrung by a small and tightfisted tax base. An examination of transcripts since 2016 from Kerr County’s governing body, the commissioners court, offers a peek into a small Texas county paralyzed by two competing interests: to make one of the country’s most dangerous region for flash flooding safer and to heed to near constant calls from constituents to reduce property taxes and government waste. “This is a pretty conservative county,” said former Kerr County Judge Tom Pollard, 86. “Politically, of course, and financially as well.” County zeroes in on river safety in 2016 Cary Burgess, a local meteorologist whose weather reports can be found in the Kerrville Daily Times or heard on Hill Country radio stations, has noticed the construction all along the Guadalupe for the better part of the last decade. More Texans and out-of-state residents have been discovering the river’s pristine waters lined with bald cypress trees, a long-time draw for camping, hiking and kayaking, and they have been coming in droves to build more homes and businesses along the water’s edge. If any of the newcomers were familiar with the last deadly flood in 1987 that killed 10 evacuating teenagers, they found the river’s threat easy to dismiss. “They’ve been building up and building up and building up and doing more and more projects along the river that were getting dangerous,” Burgess recalls. “And people are building on this river, my gosh, they don’t even know what this river’s capable of.” By the time the 1987 flood hit, the county had grown to about 35,000 people. Today, there are about 53,000 people living in Kerr County. Embedded Content In 2016, Kerr County commissioners already knew they were getting outpaced by neighboring, rapidly growing counties on installing better flood warning systems and were looking for ways to pull ahead. During a March 28 meeting that year, they said as much. “Even though this is probably one of the highest flood-prone regions in the entire state where a lot of people are involved, their systems are state of the art,” Commissioner Tom Moser said then. He discussed how other counties like Comal had moved to sirens and more modern flood warning systems. “And the current one that we have, it will give – all it does is flashing light,” explained W.B. “Dub” Thomas, the county’s emergency management coordinator. “I mean all – that’s all you get at river crossings or wherever they’re located at.” Related | Trump and Texas point fingers as flood death toll rises Kerr County already had signed on with a company that allowed its residents to opt in and get a CodeRED alert about dangerous weather conditions. But Thomas urged the commissioners court to strive for something more. Cell service along the headwaters of the Guadalupe near Hunt was spotty in the western half of Kerr County, making a redundant system of alerts even more necessary. “I think we need a system that can be operated or controlled by a centralized location where – whether it’s the Sheriff’s communication personnel, myself or whatever, and it’s just a redundant system that will complement what we currently have,” Thomas said that year. By the next year, officials had sent off its application for a $731,413 grant to FEMA to help bring $976,000 worth of flood warning upgrades, including 10 high water detection systems without flashers, 20 gauges, possible outdoor sirens, and more. “The purpose of this project is to provide Kerr County with a flood warning system,” the county wrote in its application. “The System will be utilized for mass notification to citizens about high water levels and flooding conditions throughout Kerr County.” But the Texas Division of Emergency Management, which oversees billions of FEMA dollars designed to prevent disasters, denied the application because they didn’t have a current hazard mitigation plan. They resubmitted it, news outlets reported, but by then, priority was given to counties that had suffered damage from Hurricane Harvey. Political skepticism about a windfall All that concern about warning systems seemed to fade over the next five years, as the political atmosphere throughout the county became more polarized and COVID fatigue frayed local residents’ nerves. In 2021, Kerr County was awarded a $10.2 million windfall from the American Rescue Plan Act, or ARPA, which Congress passed that same year to support local governments impacted by the pandemic. Cities and counties were given flexibility to use the money on a variety of expenses, including those related to storm-related infrastructure. Corpus Christi, for example, allocated $15 million of its ARPA funding to “rehabilitate and/or replace aging storm water infrastructure.” Waco’s McLennan County spent $868,000 on low water crossings. Kerr County did not opt for ARPA to fund flood warning systems despite commissioners discussing such projects nearly two dozen times since 2016. In fact, a survey sent to residents about ARPA spending showed that 42% of the 180 responses wanted to reject the $10 million bonus altogether, largely on political grounds. “I’m here to

Mirelys Casique was ready to be reunited with her son, 24-year-old Francisco Garcia Casique. In March, Francisco called Mirelys from an ICE facility to say that he was being deported back home to Venezuela the following day. After 6 years apart, they would finally see each other again.  But Francisco would never arrive on Venezuelan soil.  Instead, he was deported to El Salvador’s infamous CECOT prison along with more than 230 others. “I was so hopeful, waiting for him on the couch, waiting for the news that the planes were arriving in Venezuela,” Mirelys told Daily Kos.  Francisco Garcia Casique working as a barber But when images began to circulate on social media of the shaved and shackled men forced to kneel on CECOT’s concrete floors, Mirelys knew that Francisco would not be coming home.  “I wanted to bang my head against the wall, refusing to believe my son belonged in that place,” she said. Francisco, like many of the people who President Donald Trump deported without just cause through use of the Alien Enemies Act of 1798, had no prior criminal convictions. Rather, he was targeted because of his tattoos and the fact that he’s from Aragua, the Venezuelan town home to the Tren de Aragua gang.  And while the Trump administration has labeled Francisco a dangerous criminal to justify keeping him in El Salvador, his mother says otherwise. “He was always a barber, a worker, responsible,” she told Daily Kos.  Before arriving in the United States in 2023, Francisco was living in Peru working as a barber. Ultimately, Francisco would cross the border illegally into the United States and later turn himself in, beginning a lengthy process of mandatory court hearings as he attempted to become a legal resident. In the meantime, he lived and worked in Texas.  “He left Venezuela to help his family as the eldest son, not to end up abused and locked in a prison as if he were a terrorist,” Mirelys said.  And while the Department of Homeland Security insists that Francisco is a member of Tren de Aragua, the young barber was part of an administrative mixup in the past.  An online Texas database listed suspected gang members, including Francisco. But the photo was incorrectly identified and was actually of an older, bearded man completely unaffiliated with Francisco. Despite being listed in the database, Francisco was released from ICE custody, given an ankle monitor, and labeled nonthreatening as he awaited trial. Francisco Garcia Casique is seen shackled with a shaved hed after being deported to El Salvador. But after Trump took office, Mirelys told Daily Kos, everything changed. On Feb. 6, ICE agents broke down Francisco’s door and violently abducted him in the middle of the night.  “It was a kidnapping,” she said.  Mirelys, like many other relatives of the Venezuelan men being held in CECOT, has not heard from her son since he boarded the deportation flight.  “Francisco is a humble young man. We are low-income people, but that doesn’t mean we should be labeled criminals or bad people,” she said.  On June 16, Mirelys—along with four other relatives of detained men—traveled to Geneva, Switzerland, to plead for the United Nations to step in. Many have also tried traveling directly to El Salvador to see their loved ones. But even with lawyers at their side, the trips have been unsuccessful.  And while Mirelys’ story of a heartbroken mother may resonate with the citizens of Geneva, she has returned to Venezuela without the results she was hoping for.  “Many have spoken out in support, but we want action,” she told Daily Kos. “We want this to end soon. We don’t know the extent of their physical and mental deterioration.” As reports have surfaced regarding the torture inside CECOT, the wellbeing of the deported Venezuelan men is a top concern.  It’s unclear what the next legal steps will be as people like Mirelys await their relatives’ hopeful release. While the Trump administration previously said that the responsibility to release anyone was in the hands of El Salvador, President Nayib Bukele has now insisted that El Salvador is simply holding them as a favor for the United States.  For Mirelys, all she can do is continue to tell her son’s story and hold onto hope.  “I want the world to know that even though we are going through this great pain and we are destroyed because this is an injustice—because evil wants to stalk us and hurt our families—we still believe in God, and God is just and good,” she said. “He will return our children to us.”