By Pat Trevino — August 21, 2025
CUERO — The storm rolled in fast, but the lightning came faster. Outside, the rain had come down hard for just a few minutes—brief, but intense. The kind of sudden downpour that soaks the street and vanishes just as quickly. Though it didn’t register as a full-blown storm on radar, the conditions were ripe: hot, humid, and unstable. A textbook setup for a rogue lightning strike.
Then at around 5:30 p.m. Thursday evening, Jerry Pierce was inside his home when the sky cracked open with a thunderclap so loud it rattled his windows. “The sound was loud, really loud like it had hit something,” Pierce said. “And it was close.”

Moments later, he stepped outside and caught the sharp scent of something burning. He scanned the street—and that’s when he saw it. Flames licking the roofline of the yellow two-story house on the corner of Sarah and Clinton.
Mr. Pierce rushed across the street, he said he heard his wife say something about the front door. That’s when he realized he’d left it wide open—but he was already in motion, halfway to the fire. He chuckled as he recounted the moment to Cuero Online News reporter.
He said he banged on the door, and inside his neighbors a retired couple, sat unaware that lightning had struck their home.
“They didn’t even know,” Pierce said. “They were there, calm as could be. I told them, ‘Your house is on fire. We need to call 911— and y’all need to get out, now.’”

The couple quickly called 911 and within minutes, Cuero Fire Department and EMS were on the scene. Two fire trucks roared down Clinton Street, sirens piercing the stormy air. Firefighters worked quickly to contain the blaze, while police officers blocked off the road to keep neighbors safe and give crews room to work.
Thanks to Pierce’s fast thinking and the rapid response of emergency personnel, the fire was contained before it could spread further. The couple stayed at a safe distance and no injuries were reported.

When it comes to fire, it’s not just the flames—it’s the response. The readiness. The quiet resolve of those who show up before the rest of us even know to worry.
CORRECTION: CLINTON 8/22/2025