Where Do the President’s Requests Leave New Mexico?

Editor’s note: NMiF Reporter Cailley Chella spent two days in Ruidoso last week, reporting on the aftermath of heavy flooding in the area — and how residents are responding to yet another natural disaster. You can watch her piece on our YouTube channel, and it’ll lead this week’s episode of the show. What follows is some additional reporting from Cailley’s time on the ground — and more she’s gathered since returning.   

Rain is typically something people welcome in New Mexico. In Ruidoso these days, it makes them flinch. 

The small mountain town in Southeastern New Mexico has flooded four times in just 31 days — leaving homes destroyed, families displaced, and nerves shot. The most recent flood, which rolled through on Thursday, swept a mobile home down rushing rapids. A video of the moment, posted to the “Ruidoso Community Support Page” on Facebook, shows the trailer bouncing from tree to tree, being ripped apart as it’s pulled downstream. Within hours, reporters from all over — CNN, CBS, NBC — were asking to share it. 

But for the people in Ruidoso, it’s not just a viral clip. It’s their life. 

‘If my mom didn’t call us, we would have died’ 

That’s what 13-year-old Emerson Fulcher told me while standing in front of his destroyed home in Riverview RV Park. On July 8, the flood that destroyed the Fulchers’ house came fast and furious; the rain fell at a rate of 3.5 inches in 90 minutes. Emerson and his 7-year-old sister, Addy, barely escaped with their lives. 

Others, including two children staying at their RV park that day, did not. 

Lindsay Fulcher had called her son from another location, screaming into the phone to get to higher ground. Emerson grabbed his sister and ran to her room. 

Then the water came. 

“We were floating,” he told me. “It was just like a horror movie.” 

When I interviewed Emerson and his dad, Jason Fulcher last week, we got another flood watch notification mid-conversation. Emerson’s nerves kicked in. 

“Dad, can we go? We should go now.” 

Jason told me in the late morning on July 17 the sky looked just like it had the day of the flood: cloudy, but not stormy. Still, we learned that looks can be deceiving. The flooding began again just minutes after our interview, this time with the rain pounding down at a rate of 6 inches per hour. 

Lindsay Fulcher was supposed to speak with me too, but messaged last-minute to say she couldn’t. 

“It’s too soon,” she wrote. “I’m a wreck.”
 
Jason spoke to me for longer than he had planned.  

“We don’t have a plan,” he said. “This was our life plan.” 

The Fulchers don’t plan to rebuild. They had flood insurance — but it only covered $250,000 of the $450,000 home they’d rebuilt after last year’s flood. 

‘It just keeps happening’ 

Monda Milton and her husband Don manage Gavilan Mobile Home Park, just down the road from where the Fulchers’ home was destroyed. On July 24, while she was eating lunch nearby, the floodwaters hit again. It took Milton four hours to get back to the hotel she’s been staying at since the earlier flood rendered her home unlivable. 

“We’ve been through a lot,” she told me. “But this has been the hardest.” 

Milton and Don are both 72 and dealing with health issues. Now, they don’t have a job and feel pushed into retiring — and like many of her tenants, they’re struggling to find a place they can afford. 

The average rent in Ruidoso is around $2,000 a month. At Gavilan, many residents had been paying just $350. 

Arturo Olivas, one of those residents, lost everything: his trailer, his daughter’s trailer, his Audi. 
“It got horrifically worse,” he said, comparing this year to last. Olivas’ wife, Patricia, told me they’ve been trying to leave town since July 17, but they haven’t been able to.
 
“Ruidoso is scary,” Patricia Olivas said. 

Waiting on help — and hoping for more 

Ruidoso’s Mayor, Lynn Crawford, says village leaders are doing what they can with limited resources. The Federal Emergency Management Agency, or FEMA, stepped in July 23, when President Donald Trump declared a federal disaster for Lincoln County. The move frees up grants for temporary housing and repairs. 

Residents say it’s not enough. After last year’s flooding, some families received just a few thousand dollars. Others say they were never warned they were in a flood zone to begin with. 

Patricia Olivas is hoping the recent declaration will help them get out of town. 

Meanwhile, people are helping where they can. Cynthia Schumacher, a realtor from southern New Mexico, spent five days in Ruidoso after the July 8 flood, delivering supplies, organizing housing, and helping residents navigate the chaos. 

“I just felt like I had to be there,” Schumacher told me. 

Despite everything, there’s still hope. Neighbors are helping neighbors. Volunteers are arriving with water, food, and hugs. And while flood alerts now bring dread, people haven’t stopped showing up for one another. 

“We don’t know what to do next. We don’t have a plan,” Jason Fulcher said. “But we’re so blessed that we have our children.”