The morning of April 6, 2025, dawned like any other — quiet, hopeful, full of possibility. But for one young mother and her four precious children, it would be their last sunrise.
Reagan Dougan, 27, was making the long drive from North Carolina to Florida with her children to reunite with her husband, Christian. It was supposed to be a joyful reunion. Instead, it ended in unimaginable heartbreak. As their rented Jeep Cherokee traveled down I-95 in McIntosh County, Georgia, something went terribly wrong. Authorities say the SUV struck the back of another vehicle before crashing into a guardrail and bursting into flames. The crash occurred shortly after 6 a.m. All five souls inside — Reagan and her children, aged nine, four, two, and just three months — were gone before help could arrive.
The news sent shockwaves through their community in Raleigh, where the Dougan family had only recently settled. Neighbors, still reeling, described a vibrant family full of warmth and love. Christopher “Jonesy” Butler-Jones, a nearby resident, fought through tears as he remembered Reagan’s kindness during his own time of need. After Hurricane Milton destroyed his home in 2024, she had quietly sent clothes for his child — a gesture he would never forget.
“She had a light in her,” he said. “She believed in helping others, even when no one was watching. Her kids were everything to her.”
Other neighbors recalled the children’s laughter echoing through the cul-de-sac, their joy spilling into the streets as they played under the Carolina sun. “She always had a smile on her face,” said Jason Flores. “The kids were always happy. They lit up the block.”
Now, their home sits quiet. The yard, once alive with the sound of play, has fallen still.
Christian Dougan, now left to carry the weight of unfathomable loss, has found support from family and strangers alike. A GoFundMe created by his stepmother, Sarah Stoltman, raised over $26,000 in just a few days to help return Reagan and the children to Florida for burial. “No one should have to face this kind of loss,” she wrote. “We are just trying to give them peace.”
The heartbreak has resonated far beyond Raleigh. Tributes have poured in online from loved ones and friends. “Fly high, sweet angels,” wrote Reagan’s sister-in-law, Kyleah Miller. “You are so deeply loved.” A family photographer remembered their maternity shoot just months before the tragedy. “They had a bond you could feel in the air,” she said.
Reagan’s longtime friend, Cecily Corinne Borquez, posted a photo from their childhood with a message that echoed the pain so many now feel: “You were light. You were love. I’ll never understand why the good ones go first.”
Just two days earlier, another family was shattered — this time in Frankfort, Kentucky.
On the morning of April 4, nine-year-old Gabriel Andrews was walking to his school bus with his sister when he slipped into a flooded drainage ditch. Recent storms had left the area dangerously saturated, but the bus stop remained in operation. Gabriel was swept away in fast-moving waters. First responders found his body nearly an hour later, half a mile from where he fell.
He had just celebrated his ninth birthday three days earlier.
His teacher, Kasey Swails, described him as a “gentle soul” who brought joy to everyone he met. “He was part of a class that felt like a family. Today was the hardest day I’ve ever had as a teacher.”
Questions are now being raised in Frankfort about whether enough was done to protect children that morning. Though some bus routes were canceled due to flooding, schools remained open — a decision many now regret.
Community leaders expressed their sorrow publicly. “This is a tragedy we all feel,” said Mayor Layne Wilkerson. “We grieve together.”
In two towns hundreds of miles apart, families woke up to ordinary mornings — and ended them in mourning. A car crash. A flash flood. Two very different moments of loss, yet united by the same devastating truth: young lives, full of dreams and promise, taken far too soon.
To those grieving, there are no words strong enough. Only this: Your children mattered. Your families mattered. Their laughter, their kindness, their light — it all mattered. And in every tear shed, in every candle lit, their memories live on.
