Peak tourist season had arrived in Ruidoso, New Mexico, and Mayor Lynn Crawford was campaigning to convince the public that the village was safe. A Republican with white hair and a Texas drawl, Crawford said he was frustrated with residents who were sharing warnings of flooding on social media. “They spout stuff off,” he said in a radio address on June 30, 2025. “And I don’t know why they’re so afraid. I do not understand it.”

The community had experienced severe flooding the previous summer, after two wildfires burned 25,000 acres above town, in the Sacramento Mountains. The fires and floods had destroyed about 1,000 homes. Together, the Village of Ruidoso and its smaller neighbor, Ruidoso Downs, are home to some 10,000 residents, but that number more than doubles during the summer.

Since then, residents had been on edge. A new monsoon season had arrived, bringing sporadic flooding that jeopardized the town’s economic engine of horse racing. At stake were big crowds to celebrate the Fourth of July, watch quarter horse racing and enjoy cool weather that’d lured Texans here for generations.

“We have flooding temporarily,” Crawford had told a Texas news anchor in an interview. “And just almost as fast as it came to town, and went through town, it’s gone.” Crawford, who is 64, managed an exclusive club at the Ruidoso Downs Race Track & Casino and once called that his “real job.” He made less than $26,000 as mayor.

But if the town’s economy was precarious, so was its geography. The South Fork and Salt fires charred the landscape, leaving soils that didn’t easily absorb water. Imagine spilling hot wax on a carpet, letting it cool and repeatedly pouring water over it. Now place the wax on steep hills above a river lined with log homes, tourist shops selling wooden bears and an iconic racetrack.

Officials were aware of the threat but clung to Ruidoso’s animating idea: that nature could be subdued for the enjoyment of tourists and profit of the community. Nowhere was this more apparent than at the track, where the Rio Ruidoso, channeled through culverts, crossed the infield. After the 2024 flooding damaged the track, the culverts had been rebuilt with a $16 million public investment authorized by New Mexico’s Democratic governor, Michelle Lujan Grisham.

The track had only recently reopened, and flooding was again threatening to derail the racing season. On June 26, internal records show, Ruidoso’s emergency management department was at a heightened threat awareness level. Flooding had destroyed a bridge upstream of the town, and the forecast called for more rain.

But publicly, the village maintained it was prepared and the community was safe. The next day, the emergency manager reduced the threat level a notch, and the communications department chided residents for sharing warnings of catastrophic flooding on social media, noting that some posts featured old videos. “Protect our community from fear-based falsehoods,” the village implored in a public service announcement.

On July 4, and one state over, violent flooding killed more than 130 people in central Texas. But multiple tourists who were arriving in Ruidoso said they had no idea the town was in danger. At the racetrack, the horses ran, and Crawford hosted members at the Ruidoso Jockey Club, where private tables cost as much as six figures.

That weekend, Sebastian Trotter and his family traveled to Ruidoso from El Paso, Texas. Trotter was an Army helicopter pilot stationed at Fort Bliss; his wife, Stephanie, was a nursing student. They thought the place looked family friendly; they saw no warnings online. They brought their two children and three dogs. On Sunday, July 6, they parked their trailer in a desirable spot on the water’s edge at the Riverview RV Park. In online photos, the river appeared gentle. “You could go put your toes in,” said Sebastian.

That day, the Rio Ruidoso — “noisy river,” in Spanish — briefly flooded and firefighters rescued at least four people. The Trotters saw the water rise, but the campground host said it was a regular occurrence. Then the river receded.

In the park, the Trotters’ children, Sebastian Rowan, 7, and Charlotte, 4, biked under the tall pines. The boy was a soccer player who was enchanted by the idea of camping in the woods; Charlotte was bright and cheery, sometimes applying glitter to her father’s mustache. Later, the family walked through the village, where elk and wild horses occasionally graze near tourists.

On Tuesday, July 8, the Trotters were visiting a lake when they saw clouds form. They decided to head into town, ordering pizza before allowing the children to pick out souvenirs. The younger Sebastian selected a rainbow gemstone, Charlotte a bracelet and a ring. Then they returned to the RV park, where they relaxed by the river.

At 1 p.m., Crawford presided over a council meeting at Village Hall. He began by recognizing the Texas flood victims and nodding to Ruidoso’s relative success. “We want to keep all of central Texas in our thoughts and prayers and see how bad it was and how fortunate we’ve been,” he said. “The goal of the village is to protect the village.” That meant balancing public safety with tourism, he said.

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Town Leaders Said They Were Prepared for Floods. First Responders Disagree.

At almost the same moment, storm clouds gathered in the mountains. Even short periods of moderate rain on severe burn scars can unleash post-fire floods. By 1:30 p.m., radar indicated storms might douse both scars simultaneously. A little before 2 p.m., firefighters texted images of the radar to one another. “It could be interesting,” wrote one. Only about a third of the department was on duty at the time and the chief, Cade Hall, had for weeks declined to preposition additional flood specialists near low-lying areas.

Hall disputed ProPublica’s reporting about the emergency response but declined to comment with specifics.

Less than an hour later, another flood arrived, carrying debris that backed up behind bridges. The water kept coming, fanning onto roads until the normal course of the river disappeared. What the wall of brown water carried told residents it was time to panic.

Jason Fulcher, an owner of the Riverview RV Park, saw a tree-size log in the waterway. Two miles downstream, a maintenance worker at a mobile home park saw a car float past and lodge against a bridge.

Farther downstream, the track’s executives did not need physical signs of danger; they knew what was coming because they’d been alerted.

But the Trotters were caught unprepared. Around 3 p.m., they retreated to their trailer to escape the rain. Then the flood tore through a wall and took their children.

The wildfire crisis engulfing the West presents a secondary threat that has received less attention: Entire neighborhoods could wash away in debris flows and floods that often follow.

Scientists say there’s a direct correlation between fire intensity and flood risk. Research shows that if more than 20% of the ground burns at moderate to high severity, especially on steep slopes, there’s an increased danger of debris flows and post-fire flooding during storms. The fires that burned above the Rio Ruidoso watershed far exceeded that threshold.

Before the 2025 tourist season, local and state officials had an opportunity to safeguard Ruidoso and adapt to the realities of a warming climate that is exacerbating wildfires and flooding. The state and village each commissioned experts to model flooding scenarios. The engineers’ reports predicted serious flooding. “They told us exactly where it was going to come and what it was going to do,” said Hall, the fire chief. Federal emergency officials suggested that significant parts of the town should relocate away from the river.

Instead, leaders from the mayor to the governor recommitted to tourism and the racetrack.

Ruidoso Is Surrounded on Three Sides by Thousands of Acres of Burn Scars

Since the July 8, 2025, flood, officials have insisted they performed admirably against a historic disaster. Michael Martinez, the village’s former deputy manager, who helped direct the response, said, “We’re lucky we didn’t have a Texas.”

But according to five first responders, the tragedy could have been avoided. All of the first responders spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of reprisal. Their accounts are supported by public records, including emails, internal reports and hydrologic assessments. Before July 8, Crawford, Hall and others made decisions that left residents and tourists vulnerable, even though they knew a damaging flood was likely, first responders and officials say.

Some of those choices, such as the village’s promotion of tourism to visitors largely unaware of the threat, appeared to be financially motivated, according to current and former officials who worked on flood response. “Money was the driver,” said Thora Walsh Padilla, the former president of the Mescalero Apache Tribe, which is based south and west of town. “You’re taking a chance with people who aren’t even from this area and don’t know how to get around enough.” She added, “You’re putting them in jeopardy.”

Other missteps were caused by inaction: the failure to relocate vulnerable residents and to replace infrastructure damaged during previous flooding, even as the governor drove the state’s $16 million investment in the track. And just before the flood arrived, at least one of the RV park’s owners received emergency alerts but did not evacuate campers.

Village officials including Crawford did not respond to more than 70 questions from ProPublica, including about whether they had emphasized........

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