Crisis Comms in Real Time
When my friend and former co-worker Brian Ligon texted asking me to help staff the Kerrville JIC, I hesitated. The July 4 flooding along the Guadalupe River had left death and devastation across 100 miles, and the stakes were sky-high. What if I made a mistake? What if I made things harder for the local team, already stretched thin?
But I leaned on my FEMA training and two decades in city comms, and said yes. I soon found myself on TAMIO Strike Team 3, the group that would help handle communications during the Presidential visit.
Getting My Head Straight
Before loading my truck for the drive to Kerrville, I jotted down a few questions to focus my thinking:
When was the Kerr County Emergency Operations Center (EOC) activated?
What is protocol for standing up an EOC when there’s a flash flood watch or warning?
What messages still aren’t reaching the public?
What are the stories of city and county workers that could put a human face on the response?
Any persistent rumors we need to knock down?
These notes were a way to remind myself the JIC’s job isn’t only to answer reporter emails—it’s to think strategically about what stories need to be told, how, and when.
First Impressions of the EOC
When I arrived in Kerrville on Thursday afternoon, security was already tight for the Presidential visit scheduled the next day. Brian met me outside the EOC, got me credentialed, and walked me in.
The EOC—which had taken over about 70,000 square feet in the Hill Country Youth Event Center—was buzzing. More people than I could count, all grinding away in a blur of uniforms, laptops, maps and whiteboards.
Credit: Jarrod Wise
Brian then showed me the most popular spot in the EOC: where to get food, coffee and energy drinks.
Inside the JIC, nearly a dozen people were working around tables pushed together. A large flipchart note taped to the wall read “Battle Rhythm,” with a hand-written schedule beneath it. The room was quiet; everyone focused on their tasks. It was somewhat somber, in fact (I soon learned each of the local PIOs knew people who had died in the flooding). There were guys in the Texas Department of Emergency Management (TDEM) “uniform”—black polos and khaki cargo pants—Department of Public Safety troopers, and plainclothes communicators like me, all working to mesh into a single team.
Here’s the JIC, with reps from TDEM, Kerr County, the City of Kerrville, the Department of Public Safety and three volunteers.
Credit: Jerrod Wise
Managing the Information Deluge
By the time I plugged in Friday morning, the JIC inbox already had hundreds of media emails. Reporters wanted interviews with the mayor, the city manager, the county judge. They wanted numbers of missing and dead. They wanted detailed answers about the emergency alerts: when exactly had they gone out?
That was the big question of the day—and one we couldn’t answer yet. In the meantime, we had to manage expectations and keep the focus on what we could say with confidence.
JIC volunteer Joe Calderon from the City of Pearland, left, catches up with Krista Piferrer, also a volunteer, and TDEM’s Ben Gurnett on the day’s tasks. Credit: Jarrod Wise
The scale of operations added to the pressure. Data later showed that 2,500 people moved in and out of the EOC in a single day. Around 200 people were typically in the building at any given time, working everything from logistics to hydrology to search grids. The JIC was only one part of a sprawling, humming organism.
Friday: POTUS and Dr. Phil
Friday afternoon brought the Presidential visit. The President and First Lady toured the damage alongside the Governor, while both U.S. Senators, and a cluster of federal and state officials began to gather in the EOC for a briefing. Our job in the JIC was to keep the information flowing without stepping on the White House or Governor’s messaging.
President Trump, First Lady Melania Trump, and Texas Gov. Greg Abbott at the presidential briefing.
Before the briefing, I noticed a tall, bald man mingling with the dignitaries. I did a double take. Was that … Dr. Phil? Sure enough, it was. And when the President called on him, he delivered.
Dr. Phil reminded everyone the most severe trauma comes from the sudden, violent loss of a child—and that you don’t “get over it,” you only “get through it.” He emphasized recovery isn’t just about rebuilding structures; it’s about addressing emotional wounds, too. He had advice for the residents of Kerr County on what to do six months down the road, when life is back to whatever normal will be.
“If you see someone in the store, everybody wonders, you know, do I say something to them? I know they lost a child or a grandchild; do I bring it up or does it look like they're doing OK? The answer to that question is an unambiguous yes. You don’t ever let them think you’ve moved on from it. It’s OK. [Let them know] ‘I know about the loss. I share that with you and I love you.’”
For communicators and first responders alike, his words carried an important reminder: Disasters require more than logistics and information. They demand empathy, validation, and a commitment to stand with survivors long after the national media move on.
Saturday: Choosing a Different Path
The next day we faced a decision. Reporters were asking about the next news conference. But we still didn’t have verified answers on the emergency alerts, and putting spokespeople in front of cameras only to get hammered with the same unanswerable question would do more harm than good.
So we pivoted. Mayor Joe Herring Jr. recorded a video message thanking volunteers and pointing residents to KerrTogether.com. He and City Manager Dalton Rice also issued written statements, promising transparency and thanking federal and state leaders for support.
The Kerrville Daily Times reported on both written statements. To me, that mattered more than national coverage. The local media would be there long after CNN and the network affiliates had packed up. They were the voice the community trusted.
The Mayor and Dalton were regular visitors to the JIC. Mayor Herring would join us in the morning and quietly announce he was “reporting for duty,” while Dalton usually ate a meal with us, so he could catch up on what we were working on and brief us on anything we needed to know.
Kerrville Mayor Joe Herring, left, talks with City Manager Dalton Rice. Credit: Joe Calderon
A tender moment I’ll never forget: a local PIO, in quiet conversation with the Mayor, felt the weight of the week catch up with him. Seven days into the crisis, neither had found time to mourn. As tears slipped down his face, the Mayor reached out and placed a steady hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Lessons in Collaboration
One of the hardest parts of comms in a Unified Command setting is figuring out whose story you’re telling. City? County? State? Federal? The answer is: all of them. Which means you have to fact-check relentlessly, cross-check information across agencies, and take the time to ensure the messaging meets the needs of all.
A few other lessons stood out for me:
Onboarding matters. New communicators arrived daily. A clear “battle rhythm,” whiteboard notes, and simple orientation steps helped get people productive fast.
Local media first. National reporters parachute in and often ask inflammatory questions. Local reporters ask what residents need to know. They matter most.
Morale counts. Comfort dogs roamed the EOC. Local residents delivered baked goods (see photo below). Counselors and chaplains set up stations. These weren’t luxuries—they were necessities.
Documentation is critical. Formal 214 forms weren’t in use, but some kept a personal log. Also, take pictures and shoot video—inside the EOC as well as out in the field. Jarrod and Joe did a great job of that, as these photos attest.
You can’t train too much, and you can’t plan too much. Every crisis is different, but the basics of EOC operations and the duties of the PIO remain the same. If you work in local government and haven’t gotten basic training for emergency operations, sign up ASAP. The basic courses can be taken online.
These wonderful volunteers just showed up to feed folks at the EOC, even though the State of Texas had hired a fantastic caterer. Folks want to help in a time of crisis. When you meet people like this, you realize there is so much more that unites us than divides us. Credit: Joe Calderon
Closing Reflections
Looking back, I’m grateful I said yes to Brian’s text. I learned that no plan perfectly fits the moment, but training gives you a starting point. I saw firsthand that local knowledge is irreplaceable. And I was reminded that communicators aren’t just message managers—they’re part of the response, carrying their community through the storm.
Onward and Upward.