A father is under fire for rescuing his 9-year-old daughter from a flooded school in Westernport, Maryland on Tuesday. The school was flooding. Rapidly. Water rising. Building becoming unsafe. And emergency services were evacuating children one by one. Methodically. Following protocol. Making sure each child was accounted for, safely removed, handed off to the right adult. It was the correct procedure. The professional procedure. But it was also slow.
And this father looked at the rising water. Looked at the school. Looked at the evacuation process. And made a calculation. His daughter was still inside. The water was still rising. And waiting for her turn in the orderly evacuation meant more time in danger. More time in a building that could collapse. More time at risk. So he didn’t wait. He went in himself and pulled her out before the building could collapse.
The photo shows them afterward. His daughter sitting on what looks like a floating board or debris, surrounded by floodwater that’s thigh-deep on an adult. She’s soaked. Calm. Safe. Because her father went in and got her. Didn’t wait for permission. Didn’t defer to emergency services. Didn’t trust the process when his daughter’s life was at stake. He just went in. And brought her out.
Some accuse him of risking both their lives in potentially fatal floodwaters. And they’re not entirely wrong. Floodwater is dangerous. Fast-moving water can sweep adults off their feet. Can hide hazards. Can be contaminated. Emergency services don’t want civilians entering dangerous situations because civilians can become victims themselves. Can turn a rescue into a double rescue. Can make situations worse. The father’s decision was risky. Could’ve gone wrong. Could’ve resulted in both of them needing rescue.
But others celebrate him as Father of the Year. Because what he did was what any parent would want to do. What every parent would be tempted to do. When your child is in danger, protocol feels irrelevant. Professional procedure feels too slow. The voice in your head screaming GET YOUR CHILD doesn’t care about risk assessment or emergency services protocol. It just cares about bringing your baby to safety. Now. Immediately. Whatever it takes.
He made a brave, calculated decision that worked. That’s the key. It worked. His daughter is safe. She wasn’t injured. The building didn’t collapse on them. He didn’t slip or fall. They both made it out. The risk he took paid off. And while that doesn’t mean his decision was the right one from a policy perspective, it does mean that from a parental perspective, it’s hard to argue with the result. His daughter is safe. That’s all that matters to him.
No parent would have done differently. That’s the truth. Every parent reading this story imagines themselves in that situation. Watching floodwater rise. Watching emergency services evacuate children one by one. Knowing their child is still inside. And every parent knows they’d be calculating the same thing. Weighing risk against time against fear. And most would probably make the same choice. Protocol be damned. That’s my child. I’m getting them.
The criticism of this father comes from people thinking about worst-case scenarios. What if he’d slipped? What if the water had swept them away? What if emergency services had to risk their lives to save both of them? What if this encourages other parents to make risky decisions that don’t end as well? All valid concerns. All important for policy and procedure. But none of them change the fact that in that moment, that father looked at his daughter’s situation and made the choice he thought gave her the best chance of survival.
The celebration of this father comes from people understanding parental instinct. The overwhelming need to protect your child. The inability to stand by and wait when your baby is in danger. The willingness to risk yourself if it means improving their odds. That’s not recklessness. That’s love. That’s the biological imperative that makes parents run into burning buildings, jump in front of cars, face down threats that should terrify them. Because the alternative—standing by and doing nothing—is worse than any danger.
The photo of them afterward—daughter safe, father exhausted, both soaked but alive—is what matters. Not the debate about whether his decision was right or wrong. Not the criticism or celebration. Just the result. A father and daughter who both made it out. A family that’s still intact. A child who will remember that when things were scary and dangerous, her daddy came and got her. Didn’t wait. Didn’t hesitate. Just came. That’s what she’ll remember. And that’s worth everything.
Thank you to emergency services who did evacuate the other children safely. Who followed protocol and got kids out without additional casualties. And thank you to the father who trusted his instincts. Who took the risk. Who brought his daughter home. Both approaches matter. Both have their place. And we’re grateful that everyone made it out safely.