Before the floodwaters swallowed Camp Mystic and silenced 27 lives, 9-year-old Janie Hunt clutched one simple treasure to her chest — a beaded necklace her grandmother gave her, spelling out her name in bright, childlike letters.
It was a
keepsake, a comfort, a charm against the storm. And when tragedy struck, that same necklace led search teams to her body, nestled in the wreckage, still close to her heart.
Janie had only been at camp for five days, her first time away from home. She went to be with her cousins and embrace the adventure of summer under the Texas sky. But when torrential rain turned the Guadalupe River into a deadly surge, Camp Mystic was caught off guard. Roads disappeared, cabins collapsed, and dozens of children and counselors were left vulnerable. Among the missing: Janie Hunt
Her grandmother, Margaret Hunt, remembered the necklace vividly. “She wore it every day,” she said. “It made her feel brave. And when they found her… it was still around her neck. That’s how they knew it was our Janie.” The necklace, given to Janie after her performance in a school play back in May, had become more than an accessory. It was her anchor — and, ultimately, her voice in the silence.
Janie’s body was discovered near Camp Mystic owner Dick Eastland, who died trying to protect the children. Her family would later learn Janie had spent her last days comforting homesick campers, wiping tears and sharing her fearless smile. “She was always the helper,” Margaret shared. “She told the other kids not to cry. That they’d be okay.”
The tragedy at Camp Mystic sent shockwaves through the community. Vigils were held across the state, with candles lit not only for Janie but for every child and adult lost to the rising water. Parents who once feared scraped knees and sunburns were now facing an unthinkable grief — the loss of their children to something no one saw coming fast enough.
In the days that followed, the campgrounds were combed for signs of life and closure. Volunteers waded through thick mud, retrieving what they could: backpacks, shoes, soggy journals. One rescue worker, a father himself, found Janie’s sketchbook — its pages water-streaked, but intact. On one page, a colorful crayon drawing of the river shimmered under a bold blue sky. “She saw beauty in everything,” he said quietly.
Stories of heroism began to emerge. Counselors formed human chains to guide campers to higher ground. Local residents launched boats into flooded pastures, risking their own safety to help strangers. Janie — the girl with the beaded necklace — became a quiet symbol of courage. Her story echoed far beyond Texas, shared in classrooms, churches, and news segments across the country.
At her memorial, her classmates tied their own handmade bead necklaces around a tree outside the church. Each one carried a name, a message, a memory. “She would have loved that,” Margaret said, her voice trembling. “She always believed small things had big meanings.”
In her honor, the Hunt family founded “Janie’s Light,” a nonprofit focused on improving storm readiness for youth camps. The organization has already provided emergency kits and weather radios to dozens of facilities. “We couldn’t save her,” Margaret said, “but maybe her light can guide someone else home.”