‘Blessed to be here.’ Volunteers arrive to help those devastated by tornado
Early Monday morning, Nicholas Mays stood in front of what’s left of his house: Half of its roof ripped off, his RV overturned into the neighbor’s driveway, three cars crinkled like aluminum foil.
As a tornado barreled down on his Laurel County neighborhood Friday night, he grabbed his two young sons by the neck, yelled at his wife and daughter and ran for the bathroom. In the RV were his in-laws and a 5-year-old niece.
“When you hear the freight train, it’s too late,” Mays said, fighting back tears. “I felt myself being pulled up. It was so terrifying for about a minute.”
Then, when it was over, the shouting and screaming began all around him. But everyone survived.
Now on Monday morning, he was still waiting to hear from FEMA officials, or anyone really, who could tell him what to do next. But his trauma was too close and real to make any serious decisions.
But all around him, some consolation arrived in a stream of trucks and backhoes that arrived at Westland Estates.
Look for the helpers, Mr. Rogers said long ago, and on Monday in the Sunshine Hills neighborhood of Laurel County, they were everywhere.
Three days after a devastating tornado killed at least 19 people as it cut a deadly swath through southern Kentucky, backhoes were buzzing, and volunteers picked through the unfathomable piles of debris to find the small precious things that might have survived.
Amanda Brummett teaches with Beth Warren at Camp Ground Elementary. She and Warren’s former students flocked to the concrete foundation of what used to be Warren’s home.
The only thing still in place at the house? A bathtub where Beth, her husband P.J., and their three children sheltered during the storm.
More teachers and Beth’s former teachers were on the way to help.
Brummett had already found lip gloss, Beth’s contact lenses and her favorite shoes in two different places. Hunter Peyton had asked for his phone and his favorite shorts; those, too, were found.
Members of his sister Peyton’s dance team friends kept sifting through the debris resting on the concrete foundation of what used to be her home.
Brummett was on site Sunday as well. “We worked yesterday and total strangers just came up to help,” she said. “We were so thankful because we felt so overwhelmed.”
Gus Koch came down from Bourbon County with a group of others — and their trucks and tractors — at the invitation of his brother, Rep. Matt Koch, R-Paris.
“We’re just trying to make a difference as best we can,” Gus said. “You can’t believe it until you see it.”
Brandon Pratt owns Pratt’s Landscaping in Corbin and sent 46 of his employees and 20 trucks. Workers filled the trucks with debris, then drove them to the London Airport, where fill was being collected from the county-wide wreckage.
“This is our community,” Pratt said. “I’ve just never seen anything like it before.”
For others, though, weather disaster are becoming an all-too regular occurrence.
Erick Poole started a nonprofit called 3:16 Disaster Relief last October after he went to volunteer in North Carolina during Hurricane Helene. He’s based in Leesburg, Va., but now spends about half his time traveling to scenes like this one, all too often in Kentucky and Appalachia.
He was in Pikeville during the floods in February.
“It’s a broken world,” he said. “This is about as bad as it gets. But I’m the one being blessed to be here.”
Volunteer employees from Advent Health in Manchester are also getting a lot of disaster training, said CEO Nick Bejarano. Some of them live in London and many were ready to jump in.
“Our mission is to extend the healing ministry of Christ,” he said. “It’s our privilege to be here.”
The North Laurel High School football team also showed up, 25 strong, and I mean strong, hauling pallets of water and the heavier debris.
“I tell them, they play for this community and they need to be leaders and show people they can do something to make a difference,” Coach Steven Nelson said.
Next question is where’s FEMA?
When the investigations are over, it’s nearly certain that the bulk of the 19 deaths confirmed so far will have happened in Westland Estates and Sunshine Hills, two bucolic neighborhoods of houses tucked into the hills, separated by a wall of white pines and a creek.
The pines are gone, snapped off in the middle, and the creek is high and full of insulation, bricks and detritus.
Information is scarce and confusing. Clean up debris, but don’t take down standing walls until the insurance adjusters arrive, Doris Hensley was told.
Like Nicholas Mays, Hensley had also heard FEMA was coming, but had gotten no concrete information. She sifted through what remained of the house she’d lived in for 30 years. She and her husband sheltered in the bathroom’s tub, now the only thing standing.
“I don’t know if we’ll rebuild,” she said. “It’s all too soon.”
Further back in Sunshine Hills, the late-night arrival of the storm meant no one was at Sunshine Hills Baptist Church. That’s good because the only thing remaining is the basement. The steeple, even the big bell, just blew away, said Tracy Casada, wife of Pastor Michael Casada.
The church has been standing there for 48 years. “It took everything,” Casada said. “We’re not giving up, but we’re not talking about the future today.”
All they could find was the collection plate and the communion plate. They sat on the ground of the parking lot, the silver crosses glinting in the light..
This story was originally published May 19, 2025 at 1:49 PM.
