As the floodwaters of Southeast Texas begin to recede on Tuesday, July 08, 2025, at 10:26 AM +07, a gripping tale of bravery has emerged from the devastation, starring Johnny Joey Jones, the retired Marine and Fox News contributor turned unlikely hero. In a life-or-death scenario in Beaumont, Jones plunged into the churning depths of a submerged underpass, risking his life to rescue an elderly couple trapped inside a sinking truck. His audacious dive, executed with the precision of his military training, saved two souls just moments before the harem was fully engulfed. “I didn’t think about the danger,” Jones gasped, his breath ragged after the rescue. “I just knew they needed to live.” This act of valor has cemented his legacy as a symbol of courage amid one of the state’s deadliest natural disasters.

The floods, triggered by a relentless deluge beginning July 4, have claimed 112 lives across Texas, with 58 still missing, as the Neches River and its tributaries swelled beyond imagination. Beaumont, a city already battered by Hurricane Harvey in 2017, faced a new ordeal as rainfall totals exceeded 400 mm in 48 hours, submerging streets, homes, and infrastructure. The underpass on Interstate 10, a critical evacuation route, became a deadly trap when floodwaters surged, stranding vehicles and their occupants. Among them was a pickup truck carrying Harold and Margaret Simmons, an 82-year-old couple who had fled their flooded home, only to find themselves ensnared in a watery grave.

A Call to Action in the Storm

Johnny Joey Jones, a 39-year-old double amputee who lost his legs to an IED in Afghanistan in 2010, was in Houston on July 6, preparing for a Fox News segment on the unfolding crisis. Known for his stoic demeanor and motivational speaking, Jones had built a post-military career advocating for veterans’ rights. But the images of Beaumont’s inundated streets—broadcast live as families clung to rooftops—stirred a deeper call. “I’ve seen war, but this felt like a battlefield without borders,” Jones later reflected. “I couldn’t stay on the sidelines.”

With his prosthetic legs adjusted for mobility, Jones drove to Beaumont that night, linking up with the Texas Task Force 1, a swift-water rescue unit. His military background—serving as an explosive ordnance disposal technician—equipped him with skills few civilians possess, though his physical limitations posed a unique challenge. Undeterred, he donned a rescue suit, life vest, and helmet, his determination outweighing the risks. “I’ve faced worse odds,” he told a teammate, a wry smile breaking through his fatigue.

His arrival coincided with a desperate plea from a National Guard helicopter crew, who had spotted the Simmons’ truck half-submerged in the underpass, its headlights flickering weakly. The team’s initial attempt to reach the vehicle by boat failed as the current proved too strong, and time was running out as water levels rose at an alarming rate.

The Dive into Danger

At 6:47 AM on July 7, with rain still pelting the region, Jones stood at the edge of the flooded underpass, the dark water swirling with debris—branches, tires, and fragments of homes. The truck, a weathered Ford F-150, was tilted precariously, its cab filling with water as Harold and Margaret pounded on the windows, their faces pressed against the glass in terror. The couple, married for 58 years, had been en route to a shelter when the flood trapped them, the engine stalling as the underpass became a watery tomb.

Jones assessed the situation with the calm of a soldier under fire. The rescue team’s boat couldn’t navigate the narrow, debris-choked channel, and helicopters couldn’t lower a basket due to low visibility and strong winds. “We’re losing them,” shouted Captain Mark Delaney, the team leader. “Someone’s got to go in.” Without hesitation, Jones volunteered. “I’ve got this,” he said, adjusting his prosthetics and securing a breathing apparatus. His teammates protested—his amputations made swimming arduous—but Jones’s resolve was unshakeable. “I’ve carried heavier burdens,” he quipped, referencing his recovery from injury.

Equipped with a crowbar and a lifeline tethered to the boat, Jones eased into the frigid water, the current tugging at his legs. The cold seeped through his suit, and his prosthetics, designed for stability rather than buoyancy, dragged him downward. Using his arms and upper body strength, honed from years of physical therapy, he stroked toward the truck, the murky depths obscuring his vision. Debris scraped his face, and the pressure of the rising water tested his endurance, but his focus remained laser-sharp on the flickering lights ahead.

Reaching the vehicle, Jones found the driver’s side window intact but the water inside rising to the couple’s chests. Harold, his white hair plastered to his forehead, shouted through the glass, “Help us!” Margaret, clutching his hand, sobbed, her oxygen fading. The door was jammed, warped by the flood’s force. With a surge of adrenaline, Jones gripped the crowbar and struck the window. The first blow cracked it; the second shattered it, sending a rush of water into his face. He braced himself, reaching inside as the current threatened to pull him away.

A Race Against the Engulfing Waters

Inside the cab, the situation was dire. Harold, weakened by a recent heart condition, slumped against the seat, while Margaret, though frail, fought to keep her head above water. Jones looped the lifeline around Harold’s torso, signaling the boat team to pull. The line tightened, and with a grunt, Jones hauled the old man toward the broken window, the water now lapping at the roof. Harold’s limp form emerged, and the team dragged him to safety, where medics began CPR.

Margaret was next. Her strength waning, she clung to Jones’s arm as he maneuvered her through the narrow opening. The underpass groaned, the water level surging as a second wave approached. Jones’s prosthetic legs caught on the doorframe, and for a moment, he was trapped, the current pinning him. With a desperate twist, he freed himself, pulling Margaret free just as the truck’s cab vanished beneath the surface, the headlights extinguished in a final gulp of water. The team hauled them both to the boat, where Margaret gasped for air, her hand still gripping Jones’s.

The rescue took 14 minutes, a lifetime in the flood’s relentless grip. As the boat reached shore, medics confirmed Harold’s pulse had returned, though he remained unconscious, while Margaret, shivering but alive, whispered, “Thank you, son.” Jones, drenched and panting, collapsed onto the bank, his suit torn and his face streaked with mud and tears. “I didn’t think about the danger,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I just knew they needed to live.” The moment, captured by a drone overhead, spread across social media, earning him widespread acclaim.

The Aftermath and Community Response

The Simmons’ rescue was a beacon of hope in a region reeling from loss. Harold, stabilized at Christus Southeast Texas Hospital, regained consciousness by evening, crediting Jones with his survival. “He’s a miracle worker,” Harold rasped, his hand in Margaret’s. “We’d be gone without him.” Margaret, recovering from hypothermia, added, “He gave us our 59th year together.” The couple’s story, shared by local news, inspired a flood of donations to the Beaumont Emergency Fund, raising $1.8 million in 24 hours.

Jones’s heroism, however, came at a cost. His prosthetics, damaged by the ordeal, required immediate repair, and his body bore bruises from the underwater struggle. Yet, he refused rest, returning to the rescue base to coordinate with Task Force 1. “There are more out there,” he insisted, his determination undimmed. Volunteers and Guard members rallied around him, dubbing him “The Beaumont Bulldog,” a nod to his tenacity.

The broader impact of the floods remains devastating. Over 1,200 homes are destroyed, 5,000 residents displaced, and infrastructure damage exceeds $1 billion. The death toll, now 112, includes 17 children from the Wimberley school bus tragedy, a loss that weighs heavily on rescue teams. As new rain threatens, the Texas National Guard has deployed 15 helicopters and 200 personnel, bolstered by a surge in volunteer support inspired by Jones’s actions.

A Hero’s Reflection and Legacy

At a press conference on July 8, Jones, still in his tattered rescue gear, addressed the media, his voice steady despite exhaustion. “This isn’t about me,” he said. “It’s about every person we can save. I’ve lost legs, but I’ve gained a purpose—to help others stand.” His words, delivered with the grit of a Marine, resonated deeply, drawing tears from reporters and survivors alike.

The encounter with the Simmonses left an indelible mark. Jones visited them in the hospital, where Harold, now stable, pressed a worn pocket watch into his hand—a family heirloom. “You gave us time,” Harold said. “Take this.” Jones, moved, accepted it, vowing to carry their story forward. The gesture sparked a movement, “Time for Texas,” encouraging donations of time and resources, with over 300 volunteers signing up by midday.

Jones’s actions have also reignited discussions about veterans’ roles in crises. On X, posts praised his service, with one reading, “Joey Jones proves heroes don’t retire—they reload.” Critics, however, questioned the safety of his dive, prompting Jones to retort, “Risk is part of saving lives. I’d do it again.” His Fox News colleagues, including Greg Gutfeld, hailed him as “a true American warrior,” amplifying his story.

A Community Rebuilt Through Courage

As the sun rises over Beaumont on July 8, Jones prepares for another shift, his repaired prosthetics gleaming under the light. The Simmonses, recovering together, plan to thank him personally, while the community rallies to rebuild. His dive into the floodwaters, a split-second decision fueled by compassion, has become a symbol of hope, proving that even in the darkest floods, human spirit can prevail.

For those wishing to contribute, donations can be made through the American Red Cross or the Beaumont Emergency Fund. As Jones returns to the water, the world watches, awaiting more tales of bravery from a man who turned loss into a lifeline.