SOUTH WALTON BEACH, Fla. – On a sunny day at the end of May, Andrew Cady launched his Sea-Doos into Lake Powell in the Florida panhandle, eager to ride with his two daughters towards the ocean.

The lake is separated from the Gulf of Mexico’s saltwater by a narrow stretch of stunning white sand known as Inlet Beach. Cady, along with his daughters, 11 and 16, was a local from nearby Watersound, well-acquainted with navigating past busy beaches filled with vacationers.

Just three months prior, a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers team had cleared the silt-filled inlet, allowing fresh water from the lake, along with its fish and other marine life, to flow freely into the Gulf.

As the two watercraft cruised through the pass, Cady enjoyed a panoramic view of the sandy shores and the sparkling blue-green water below. Suddenly, a dark shape zoomed by.

While one of his daughters recorded the moment on her ski’s camera, Cady shouted to the families playing along the beach.

“Shark!” he called out. “Get out of the water!”

The video captured the shadow racing along the shoreline, moving so rapidly it appeared to be flying.

A man carrying a young child stumbled onto the beach just as the shark swam toward him, narrowly escaping. The dark shape then navigated between the two Sea-Doos and along the shoreline.

They saw as the pointed shadow vanished, and Cady wouldn’t share the video on Facebook until two weeks later when his community became the focus of national news.

Watersound Beach, a few miles west of Lake Powell’s inlet, is a private area that can only be accessed by a nearby community. On that day, the two sandbars off its coast, located 30 and 60 yards from shore, were filled with swimmers and bodysurfers.

Among them was Elisabeth Foley, 50, on vacation from Virginia with her husband, Ryan, and their three children: Dominick, 13, Lyla, 15, and Laurel, 17, enjoying time in the shallow waters of the first sandbar.

Keith Harrison, 53, a neuropathologist visiting with his family from Birmingham, Alabama, was also at the first sandbar with his two sons, ages 9 and 12, catching the smaller waves. They were finishing a week-long family getaway and had noticed that the water had been a bit murky earlier in the week. However, on that Friday, it was clear, and they planned to make the most of it.

Suddenly, screams erupted.

Initially, Harrison thought the screams were just kids playing in the water. But as he turned to investigate, he noticed blood spreading in the water. He quickly left his kids with his wife and hurried over. There, he found Elisabeth Foley coming out of the water—half of her left forearm and hand were missing, and blood spilled from her injuries.

Meanwhile, he spotted a shadowy figure modestly hovering in the water amid the red tide. An experienced diver nearby identified it as a bull shark.

Rushing over, Harrison took Elisabeth into his arms to carry her towards the shore while Ryan managed the kids. Pressing his hand against Elisabeth’s left arm to stem the bleeding, he absorbed the horrific scene before him.

Nearby, Rylee Smith, Bailey Massa, and Abby Juedemann had been enjoying the morning at Watersound Beach, swimming and soaking in the sun. All four had traveled from Columbia, Missouri, for a weekend getaway at the beach.

The friends, all employed in medicine—Smith was a 22-year-old paramedic; Massa, 23, was an ER nurse; and Juedemann, 22, worked as a nurse—had even picked up mahi mahi sandwiches for lunch earlier. They had settled under their beach tent, admiring the radiant blue of the sky and sea.

The screams broke their daydreaming.

Smith scanned the water and saw it turning crimson. Understanding instantly it was a shark attack, she felt her paramedic instincts kick in.

“Are you guys ready?” Smith asked her friends.

“For what reason?” one of them asked.

She threw her sunhat aside, seized a towel, and dashed toward the shore, with her friends trailing closely behind.

In the water, the two men approached the beach. Elisabeth was in their grasp, and she was in critical condition.

Increasing numbers, increasing shark encounters

Shark attacks are still statistically uncommon.

For the over 7 billion individuals worldwide—approximately half of whom dwell within 100 miles of the coast—the occurrence of shark bites is exceedingly low: around 60 bites and an average of six fatalities each year. You stand a greater chance of dying from a lightning strike than experiencing a serious shark encounter.

However, Florida has the highest rate of shark attacks globally. Last year, the state, boasting over 8,000 miles of coastline, reported 16 unprovoked attacks, surpassing California (2), Hawaii (8), and the entirety of Australia (15), according to the International Shark Attack File from the Florida Museum of Natural History.

The immense number of individuals entering the waters in Florida contributes to the likelihood of such attacks. In the previous year, Florida welcomed 140 million visitors, with approximately 40% enjoying the beaches. The areas along the east coast, from Miami to St. Augustine, have a higher concentration of coastal inhabitants, which is where most shark attacks in Florida occur.

Few moments have ingrained the concept of shark attacks into American culture as deeply as the 1975 hit film “Jaws.”

While the film primarily featured great white sharks, it ignited a greater interest in the pursuit of various shark species, as noted by Cassidy Peterson, a researcher at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), who has examined trends in shark populations.

“That film significantly impacted recreational shark fishing,” she explained.

However, global trade relations have perhaps had an even larger effect.

Following the normalization of trade relations between the U.S. and China in 1979, Peterson indicated that American fisheries hurried to capture sharks for their fins and other parts considered delicacies in China.

As shark populations dwindled, the federal government intervened. Beginning in 1993, NOAA implemented a series of management plans and regulations that helped shark populations gradually recover, according to Peterson.

Dean Grubbs, director of Florida State University’s Coastal & Marine Laboratory, has conducted shark surveys in the Gulf of Mexico for over ten years and has observed NOAA’s efforts positively influencing shark populations, helping them return toward pre-1970s numbers.

“Currently, we have relatively healthy shark populations in the U.S.,” Grubbs said, with his research teams surveying sharks from Apalachicola Bay in the Florida Panhandle to Tampa.

It’s not just marine populations growing along the Florida coast.

In 2010, the annual number of visitors to the state was 82 million. Last year, that figure nearly doubled, according to the state’s tourism agency. Moreover, the percentage of visitors spending time at beaches or waterfronts surged from 20% in 2010 to nearly 40%, equating to 56 million people last year.

The outcomes are to be expected, Gavin Naylor, who leads the Florida Program for Shark Research at the Florida Museum of Natural History and manages the International Shark Attack File, noted.

“As more people frequent those areas for leisure,” he stated, “it’s only natural that we will see increased interactions between humans and sharks.”

The two demographics inhabit separate environments—one in the ocean, the other on land—until a critical moment arises during their encounter. Typically, this moment occurs along a stretch of pristine white sand, such as the one found along State Road 30A.

On June 7, the beaches in the Panhandle were bustling with visitors, including families like that of Elisabeth Foley. Even as those around her fought to pull her from the water, other swimmers further down the coast waded in, oblivious to the looming danger.

‘She is rapidly losing blood’

Harrison, the specialized doctor, and Elisabeth’s husband brought her ashore and laid her on the sand. There, Harrison encountered Smith, the paramedic, Massa, the nurse, and another individual who introduced himself as a Navy SEAL. Smith knelt on her right side and applied pressure with a towel to her severely injured pelvic area. Clenching her fists, she pressed down with all her strength on the spot where her right leg connected to her waist, trying to slow the loss of blood from her severed femoral artery.

Massa dialed 911 and communicated the specifics of her injuries. The sailor maintained pressure on the other femoral artery, while Harrison’s sister-in-law, Amy Jones, clothed what remained of Elisabeth’s left arm with a towel. Juedemann attempted to keep Elisabeth conscious. Ryan, her husband, knelt by her side, expressing his love for her and praying together.

Harrison continued to apply pressure to the brachial artery in her arm to control the bleeding. He attempted to fashion a tourniquet on her arm at the armpit, first using a wet towel and then a sunglass strap, but the attempts were unsuccessful. He kept pressing on the brachial artery against her humerus, managing to slow the bleeding, though the towels quickly soaked through. Nearby, people—including Elisabeth’s children—were screaming.

Simultaneous phone calls flooded into the county emergency call center. A record of those calls displays the scene’s frenzy:

13:21:26: SHARK ATTACK

13:22:07: SCREAMING IN BACKGROUND

13:23:07: HAND MISSING

13:23:13: PEOPLE ARE YELLING

13:29:01: SHE IS LOSING BLOOD FAST

“Everyone was laser-focused on the situation,” Harrison later reflected. “But it was complete chaos.”

Alyssa Huffman, who was standing in waist-deep water with her sister and 14-year-old nephew, heard the shouts and sprinted toward the beach and Elisabeth.

In Missouri, she had spent many vacations along the same coastline and had trained to be a lifeguard. She was very familiar with the beach.

When Huffman heard the cries for help, she rushed towards them and was immediately alarmed by Elisabeth’s pale appearance. The color had drained from her skin, her lips were a ghostly white. Although she was awake, the significant blood loss left her on the brink of shock. Huffman knelt by her side, gently supporting her head.

Huffman inquired if Elisabeth would like to pray with her. Elisabeth nodded in response, and together they recited the Serenity Prayer: “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” Whenever Huffman noticed Elisabeth starting to doze off, she rubbed sand on her cheek to keep her awake.

“Your children are watching you,” Huffman reassured her. “Think back to the last five minutes of your delivery; recall how tough that was. This is your marathon, and it will take time. The best way to show your kids your strength is to keep breathing.”

Huffman guided Elisabeth through calming breathing exercises: inhaling for four seconds and exhaling for four seconds. Slow and calm.

“You need to be strong and keep breathing,” she said to Elisabeth. “And we’ll pray together.”

‘Where is the help?’

Jacob Cherry was enjoying time at the community pool across the dunes when his mother-in-law called with news of a disturbance on the beach, possibly a medical emergency.

Cherry, a nurse anesthetist from Springfield, Missouri, initially thought it might be someone collapsing from heat exhaustion. Nonetheless, he decided to head to the beach to offer assistance.

The journey involved a quarter-mile jog on the boardwalk over the dunes, a flight of stairs, and then another 100 yards on the sandy beach to reach the emergency.

Although he was barefoot, his jog quickly turned into a sprint as he approached the scene.

Cherry navigated through the crowd, kneeling down next to Elisabeth and taking on the responsibility of applying pressure to one of her severed femoral arteries. As he adjusted the towel covering Elisabeth’s left arm, he realized for the first time that part of her arm had been bitten clean off.

“That’s when it hit me,” he remarked. “This feels like something from a movie. This was a serious, real situation.”

At 1:30 p.m., just nine minutes after the emergency call was made, Walton County Sheriff’s Deputy Chris Webster arrived with two bags of medical supplies.

On Webster’s bodycam footage, he was seen handing a tourniquet to the group treating Elisabeth, and inquiring about her injuries. Smith quickly applied the tourniquet high on Elisabeth’s left arm, just below her armpit, tightening it with the attached stick. Massa noted the time – 1:32 p.m. – a standard protocol when applying tourniquets; leaving it on for too long could lead to irreversible damage.

Amidst the crowd, as trained volunteers and stunned bystanders worked together, the sense of urgency grew. At one point, Webster exclaimed, “Forget about the gauze; put that tourniquet on tight!”

A volunteer who was already assisting Elisabeth retorted, “Everyone here is trained in medicine!”

Smith rummaged through Webster’s bag and retrieved a roll of bandage, which was used to secure the end of Elisabeth’s severed arm. There was a request for an IV to help with Elisabeth’s blood loss, but Webster did not have one available.

While applying pressure to the femoral artery, Cherry couldn’t help but wonder if a medivac helicopter would land to transport Elisabeth. Instead, at 1:34 p.m. – 13 minutes after the emergency call – two emergency medical technicians arrived in a South Walton Fire District pickup truck. They also lacked an IV.

“Where is the help?” Cherry questioned.

The EMTs exchanged glances. “There is no help coming,” one replied. “This is what we’ve got.”

Cherry learned that a helicopter couldn’t land on the beach. He realized that they would need to somehow get Elisabeth back over the boardwalk, retracing the same path he had taken.

Massa later reflected, “I was shocked by how long it took for EMS to arrive, and then even more by how little equipment they had and how unprepared they were for such serious injuries.”

The team lowered A flexible stretcher was utilized, and along with the help of medical bystanders, they gently placed Elisabeth onto it. As Cherry and others applied pressure to her femoral arteries, they lifted her and put her in the bed of a pickup truck. They then drove 100 yards to the boardwalk, where they carried her up the steps and along the boardwalk, trotting roughly a quarter mile while supporting a critically injured woman. Cherry, Smith, Massa, and the others felt the discomfort of the hot wood beneath their bare feet.

At the boardwalk entrance, they took control of a golf cart to transport Elisabeth to a waiting ambulance.

She was quickly taken to a nearby fire station and later airlifted to Destin, Florida. According to log records, the total time from when the first call was received to when the medivac helicopter arrived was 39 minutes.

To the bystanders who tried to help save Elisabeth Foley’s life, it felt like an eternity.

No double red flags

The South Walton Fire District is responsible for 15 lifeguard towers that oversee 26 miles of beaches. They utilize a four-flag warning system that is displayed at various beach access points to alert beachgoers of potential dangers in the Gulf: a purple flag indicates “Dangerous Marine Life,” typically signaling the presence of jellyfish or stingrays; a yellow flag represents a “Medium Hazard,” the lowest level of risk; a single red flag signifies “High Surf and/or Strong Conditions,” where swimmers are advised to use caution but can still enter the water; and a double red flag signals that the water is entirely closed to the public.

While the flags primarily inform beachgoers of surf conditions and rip currents, they can also be employed to close the beach in emergencies.

For most of June 7, the flags had been yellow, showing that the Gulf conditions were calm, along with purple flags indicating possible jellyfish or stingrays in the area.

While Elisabeth was being taken to the ambulance, David Vaughan, the South Walton Fire District Beach Safety Director, was making calls to county officials, including Captain Scott Hogeboom of the Walton County Sheriff’s Department, to discuss how and when to adjust the flags.

During their discussions, Hogeboom updated Sheriff Mike Adkinson on the incident.

“Let’s close it all,” Adkinson said he suggested to Hogeboom, referring to closing all 26 miles of the county’s beaches. However, he acknowledged the beach team’s judgment, calling it a “scientific decision.”

Incident reports from the county show that Vaughan and Hogeboom opted to follow protocols established by the United States Lifesaving Association and their county guidelines for severe shark attack situations, deciding to only close the beaches in the immediate area of the incident.

At 1:38 p.m., Vaughan and Hogeboom resolved to “maintain localized area closure,” according to the records.

The specific stretch of beach they considered for closure is unclear, but Adkinson suggested they aimed to shut down 5 miles in both directions from where the attack occurred. The South Walton Fire District Chief Ryan Crawford chose not to comment for this story and did not respond to YSL News’ inquiries regarding the events.

Vaughan reached out to other county officials, including the sheriff’s public information officer and the Walton County tourism director, to inform them of the closure decision.

Throughout much of South Walton’s coast, yellow flags remained raised.

Sightings increase

For those living and working along the Emerald Coast beaches, the growing shark population is a pressing reality.

Judah Barbee, who has been the captain of a charter fishing boat out of Destin since 2005, takes families into the Gulf to fish for snapper, mackerel, and sometimes sharks. He noted that when he first started, he could spend hours on the water without catching a shark.

In recent years, however, Barbee has experienced an increase in shark sightings, particularly bull sharks, noting that his charters have caught about 20 sharks annually. Lately, he mentioned it’s been challenging to reel in a fish without a shark taking a bite out of it.

During this summer alone, his customers have reportedly caught over 50 bull sharks.

“There’s definitely a lot more of them right now for some reason,” Barbee stated.

Despite this, encounters with sharks are still statistically minimal, according to Demian Chapman, the director of the Center for Shark Research at the Mote Marine Laboratory & Aquarium in Sarasota.

He explained that, unlike crocodiles, which have evolved to target and eat primates, sharks have not developed such behavior. If they had the intention to bite humans, he remarked, “they would have millions of opportunities to do so every day.”

Shark bites are so rare that there isn’t enough data available to devise effective prevention strategies, he added.

However, other communities are taking precautionary measures. For more than ten years, researchers with the Atlantic White Shark Conservancy based in Massachusetts have been attaching sensors to sharks in their area and tracking their movements around Cape Cod using the Sharktivity app. This app provides real-time locations for over 300 tagged white sharks, alerting users to shark sightings—serving as a sort of Waze for sharks.

In Padaro Beach, near Los Angeles, researchers from the University of California, Santa Barbara’s Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory (BOSL) are employing drones and artificial intelligence to detect great white sharks offshore and notify nearby lifeguards and businesses.

Drones could similarly serve as an effective tool for monitoring sharks off the coast of Florida, suggested Naylor, a shark tracker based in Florida.

Phil Asselin, 55, a native of the Gulf Coast, has surfed around Panama City Beach for decades and manages a private Facebook group for local surfers called Emerald Coast Surfers. He confirmed that sharks are frequently spotted while surfing and paddleboarding just offshore.

He recalled an instance when a bull shark became entangled in his surfboard leash as he rode a wave; it simply swam away afterward. Another time, a hammerhead circled his paddleboard but later swam out to sea. Asselin noted he has never experienced a shark attack, nor has anyone in his circle.

“This is a very healthy marine environment,” he remarked. “Almost every time we head out on the water, we see sharks, especially in the summer. It’s something we’ve learned to coexist with.”

Second shark attack

About four miles east from where rescuers hurried to aid Elisabeth, Delanie Quinnelly was leading her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s bachelorette party up the boardwalk stairs at Seacrest Beach, excited for a perfect beach day.

Accompanied by nine other women, they had arrived at Seacrest Beach the previous night to celebrate Kylie Kulinski’s upcoming wedding, Delanie’s brother’s fiancée.

They had planned an action-packed weekend that included a trip to Crab Island by pontoon, a beach dinner at sunset, and a cozy pajama party filled with board games. On June 7, they started their day late and reached the beach around 1 p.m. The group wore matching blue bathing suits, while the bride-to-be stood out in white.

Delanie Quinnelly, a 23-year-old maternity nurse working at the University of South Alabama’s Children’s & Women’s Hospital in Mobile, Alabama, shared her experiences from vacations spent at this beach during her childhood. She took the opportunity to explain to a group about the meanings of the yellow and purple flags flying above the boardwalk. The yellow flag indicates a relatively peaceful surf, while the purple flag serves as a warning concerning “marine life.”

“Does that mean sharks?” one of the women inquired.

Quinnelly chuckled, clarifying that it was more likely to indicate jellyfish or possibly a stingray.

“I’ve never seen a shark here,” she reassured them.

On that bustling beach day, Quinnelly and her group waited patiently for a place to settle down. At approximately 1:20 p.m., they noticed a white South Walton Fire District pickup truck speeding towards Watersound, its emergency lights flashing. Beyond the boardwalk, the shrill sound of sirens pierced the air.

Her instinct told her it might be a heart attack or someone caught in a strong current.

Eventually, a spot became available on the beach, and they set up for the day, spending hours enjoying the inviting, waist-deep surf and soaking up the sun.

Nearby, 15-year-old Lulu Gribbin was playing in the water with her identical twin sister, Ellie, and other friends. The twins, along with McCray Faust, a 17-year-old family friend, and a few other companions, had traveled from Mountain Brook, Alabama, to Seacrest Beach for a mother-daughter getaway just days earlier.

Earlier that morning, Lulu and Ellie had pedaled their bikes from their beach condo to get açai mango bowls at Playa Bowls, before joining their friends on the beach. They spent the day swimming, looking for sand dollars, and playing volleyball. At just before 3 p.m., Lulu, Ellie, and McCray entered the water, met some boys, and continued their sand dollar hunt.

Suddenly, a shadow passed through the water at knee height. “Shark!” one girl screamed.

Ellie and a few others dashed toward the shore. In the moment, Lulu shouted, “Stay calm!” But then, screams filled the air. As Ellie reached the beach, she turned around to see blood swirling in the water. Her sister was standing in the midst of it, screaming in horror.

Nearby, Steven Beene, a 57-year-old vacationer from Inlet Beach, heard the commotion and hurried into the water. He swam towards Lulu and pulled her away from the shark, as detailed in an incident report. Others on the beach rushed to assist, carrying Lulu face down with her arms extended as if she were flying over the waves, having suffered a severe injury that resulted in a significant loss of her left arm.

The Most Dangerous Species

Among the various sharks found in the Gulf, experts identify bull sharks as one of the most dangerous types. Bull sharks can grow up to 10 feet long and are characterized by their short, broad snouts, from which they get their name. Their upper jaws are filled with large, triangular, serrated teeth designed to tear flesh from larger prey.

As apex predators, bull sharks consume smaller fish and, at times, will feed on larger animals such as dolphins and manatees. They have a unique hunting style: when they clamp down on their prey, they thrash their heads, ripping away chunks of meat, somewhat resembling the behavior of a pit bull.

In comparison with blacktip sharks that consume smaller fish whole, bull sharks inflict more severe injuries, as explained by Grubbs, an expert from Florida State University.

“If someone suffers a loss of a limb or fatalities, bull sharks are often implicated,” he noted.

Bull sharks exhibit a level of aggression and territorial behavior that is not commonly observed in other shark species. Grubbs shared that while he has pursued bull sharks from his boat, they have exhibited aggressive behavior toward his vessel, suggesting a “personal space issue.”

“They regard their territory uniquely, and if you inadvertently infringe upon it, there is a chance of being bitten,” he articulated.

Another unique characteristic of bull sharks is their adaptability to various environments; they can thrive in both fresh and saltwater. They have even been documented in freshwater habitats like Lake Nicaragua and deep within the Amazon River. A bull shark was famously caught in the Mississippi River near Rush Island, Missouri, over 700 miles away from the Gulf.

This adaptability allows them to explore river mouths and estuaries—areas that are closer to shore and rich in food sources—indicating that they don’t shy away from hunting far off shore, according to Stephen Kajiura, a shark migration researcher from Florida Atlantic University.

“Bull sharks are notorious for venturing into freshwater locales,” he remarked. “This provides them with hunting opportunities without competition from fellow sharks.”

Recent studies from Texas A&M University at Galveston have shown a significant rise in the number of juvenile bull sharks in Mobile Bay, Alabama, as well as a similar increase in Texas estuaries.

The Florida Panhandle, stretching from Pensacola to Apalachee Bay, features numerous estuaries and coastal inlets that release fresh water into the Gulf.

“She’s Going to Bleed Out”

Delanie Quinnelly was standing in chest-deep water in the Gulf, close to where Lulu and her friends were playing, when she heard the frantic screaming.

A wave of panic swept through the crowd as many rushed out of the water in fear, while others shouted or cried. Some individuals were so overwhelmed that they vomited on the beach, and at least one person fainted, according to her observations.

Quinnelly’s thoughts immediately returned to .a first aid course she had taken recently

At Coastal Alabama Community College, an instructor led a “Stop the Bleed” course, teaching students how to apply tourniquets during emergencies. Suddenly, she started shouting instructions to the people around, urging them to clear a path for a girl in distress. The blood pooled around them, stretching out like a small swimming pool, signifying just how critical the next few moments would be.

“I need shirts! I need towels!” Quinnelly shouted. “Anything you can tie around this girl!”

People started throwing T-shirts, towels, and even pieces of boogie board straps her way. When Lulu was finally brought to the shore, it became apparent to Quinnelly where the majority of the blood was originating: Lulu’s right thigh was nearly completely severed, exposing her femur, which shimmered in the sunlight as blood sprayed from a severed femoral artery.

“Oh my gosh,” Quinnelly thought to herself. “She’s going to bleed out.”

Nearby, Mohammad Ali and Ryan Forbess, who had been supervising their little kids with boogie boards in knee-deep water, turned their attention to the piercing screams.

Ali, 45, an interventional radiologist from Jackson, Mississippi, and Forbess, 46, a family doctor based in Orange Beach, Alabama, had been friends since their days as medical school graduates and roommates in Hawaii. Over the years, they enjoyed vacations together, splitting time between Florida beaches and the mountains of Tennessee.

Ali and Forbess quickly lifted their kids from the water and rushed to where Lulu lay on the beach. Ali, a large man standing 6 feet, 2 inches tall and weighing 280 pounds, knelt beside Lulu, applying pressure to her femoral artery to stop the bleeding. A bystander handed him a ratchet strap typically used for beach chairs, which he tightly wrapped around Lulu’s upper leg, using his full weight to seal the artery.

More helpers quickly gathered, including an ER nurse, an emergency medical technician, and an anesthesiologist.

Forbess felt Lulu’s pulse and listened for her heartbeat, prepared to perform CPR if necessary. Lulu looked pale, and her lips had turned white as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Stay with us, remain right here,” Forbess urged her. “Help is on the way.”

While the doctors attended to Lulu, Quinnelly turned to a man beside her and took the drawstring from his swim shorts. Kneeling next to Lulu, she wrapped it around her upper arm and pulled it tight. Lulu’s eyes opened wide in pain.

“Sweet girl,” Quinnelly said gently, “I’m really sorry. I know it hurts, but this is necessary.”

Lulu’s twin, Ellie, knelt beside her, holding Lulu’s right hand, assuring her that she was doing great and everything would be alright. Their mother, Ann Blair Gribbin, who had been further down the beach, rushed over. Upon seeing Lulu’s injury, she screamed, prompting several onlookers to pull her away for her safety.

As Lulu fluctuated between consciousness and unconsciousness, Quinnelly tried to keep her alert.

“Sweetheart,” she asked, “what’s your name?”

Lulu responded weakly, “Lulu.”

Closing the Beach

Incident reports state that emergency responders began arriving at 3:01 p.m., just six minutes after the initial 911 call. However, witnesses at the scene felt it took longer—approximately 12 to 15 minutes—for help to arrive.

A white truck from the South Walton Fire District, which Quinnelly had seen racing toward Watersound earlier, backed up onto the beach. Someone handed Quinnelly an oxygen mask, which she carefully placed over Lulu’s face. Paramedics instructed her to release the towels and drawstring so they could fit proper tourniquets onto Lulu’s arm and leg. For the first time since Lulu had come out of the water, Quinnelly relinquished her grip on Lulu’s arm.

They then transferred Lulu onto a board, placed her in the back of the truck, and made a short trip to the boardwalk. From there, EMS personnel carried her up three flights of stairs, across the boardwalk to a waiting ambulance. Meanwhile, McCray, Lulu’s friend who had been in the water with her, received a bandage for a foot bite caused by the shark and was later taken to a hospital in Panama City Beach, where she was released the same day.

As Lulu was transported toward the ambulance, Quinnelly reunited with her friends. A group of teenage girls approached and asked if they could pray for Lulu. Holding hands in a circle, the girls, Quinnelly, and a bachelorette party prayed for Lulu’s survival. Afterward, Quinnelly stepped to the edge of the dunes and vomited.

Shortly after, she offered to make a statement to a sheriff’s deputy. While walking over to the deputy’s truck, he mentioned a previous shark attack that took place nearly two hours earlier.

Quinnelly halted in shock. “What?”

The deputy described the earlier shark attack concerning Elisabeth at Watersound that same day, sending chills down Quinnelly’s spine and igniting her anger. She glanced up and noticed the beach flags still waving yellow and purple.

As paramedics responded to Lulu, sheriff’s officials were also mobilizing.

Two minutes after the initial report of Lulu’s attack, Vaughan, the beach safety director, reached out to Hogeboom, the sheriff captain, over the phone.

County officials decided to close the beaches immediately. All 26 miles of South Walton beaches were to switch to double red flags.

This decision was made at 2:57 p.m.—97 minutes after the initial reports of the first shark attack earlier in Watersound, according to incident logs. Thirteen minutes later, text alerts popped up on subscribers’ phones in the South Walton Fire District beach flag alert system: “Double Red Flags – Water Closed to Public.”

During a news conference later that day, Adkinson commended the bystanders who aided Elisabeth and Lulu, as well as the fire district’s response efforts.

Crawford, the fire district chief, highlighted the complexity of closing all county beaches simultaneously.

“Considering there are 26 miles of beaches in Walton County,” he stated during the press conference, “it requires time to traverse that distance and physically change the flags.”

In the after-action reports, it was highlighted by officials that they adhered to both local regulations and the protocols set by the United States Lifesaving Association, only deciding against closing all beaches after a second shark attack occurred.

Officials from the fire district indicated that both attacks took place quite a distance from any lifeguard stations, which hindered a prompt response.

“It’s important to note that both incidents happened in remote areas—miles away from the nearest lifeguard towers.” a report stated.

Naylor, a researcher specializing in sharks, commended how county officials managed the situation following the attacks. “Considering the circumstances,” he remarked, “I can’t think of a better decision than the one they made.”

Quinnelly, who was involved in saving Lulu, expressed her shock upon hearing news of the first attack.

“If I had known there was a shark attack at the beach, I wouldn’t have gone into the water,” she later said. “And I’m sure Lulu wouldn’t have either.”

At around 4 p.m., Quinnelly and her friends packed their belongings, climbed the boardwalk steps, and began the long trek to their rental home. Some families were still making their way to the beach, completely unaware of the recent events.

“They’re shutting down the beach,” Quinnelly informed them. “Someone just got bitten by a shark.”

‘I made it!’

Elisabeth was stabilized at HCA Fort Walton-Destin Hospital before being flown by helicopter to a hospital in Richmond, Virginia, which is closer to her home in Ashland. She has undergone 18 surgeries, including plastic procedures, and is expected to have more, as noted in a recent online update.

She began rehabilitation on July 24, focusing on recovery for her amputated arm and regaining her ability to walk.

A fundraising page on GiveSendGo, launched by her family to assist with medical expenses, has raised less than half of its target amount of $250,000.

Lulu underwent a series of urgent surgeries and treatments at Ascension Sacred Heart Hospital in Pensacola. Having lost two-thirds of her blood, she faced a leg amputation between her hip and knee, but she also survived. Upon having her breathing tube removed the next day, she looked at her family and softly whispered, “I made it!” She was later transferred to a facility specializing in care for double amputees to continue her recovery.

Thanks to numerous online updates from her mother, Ann Blair Gribbin, Lulu’s recovery has garnered significant public interest. Notable figures like former Alabama football coach Nick Saban, NBA legend Charles Barkley, and country music stars Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood have sent get-well messages to her newly established Instagram account, which has attracted over 151,000 followers. The account features photographs of Lulu—smiling with her hair in tight braids—playing cards with her siblings and testing out a new prosthetic leg. Additionally, a line of hats and T-shirts was created to raise funds for her ongoing medical expenses.

Her remarkable story also reached the attention of lawmakers in Washington.

This past Tuesday, U.S. Senator Katie Britt, a Republican from Alabama, announced plans to introduce legislation called “Lulu’s Law.” This proposed law would call for local, state, and federal agencies to send targeted “wireless emergency alerts” to people’s cellphones following a shark attack, similar to the alerts issued for severe weather, missing children, or wildfires.

“We are forever thankful that Lulu survived the shark attack on June 7,” Ann Blair Gribbin and her husband, Joe, expressed in a statement. “Nevertheless, we remain in shock that this incident occurred. It was the second attack that day in close proximity, which could have potentially been avoided with a more effective alert system.”

Sheriff Adkinson admitted feeling distressed over the serious injuries sustained by the three victims that day. “This is truly a dreadful situation,” he said. “These injuries are life-altering and catastrophic.”

He expressed a desire to enhance the county’s response to such traumatic events along the shoreline, including finding quicker methods to assist victims off the beach. Adkinson suggested that Florida should establish statewide guidelines for addressing major shark attacks, rather than leaving it up to individual communities.

In the meantime, he remarked that keeping sharks at a distance from swimmers is a difficult, if not impossible, task.

“There’s nothing that the South Walton District or the Walton County Sheriff’s Office can do to prevent something like this from happening again tomorrow,” Adkinson stated. “just like I can’t prevent a tornado or a hurricane from occurring.”

Returning to the Beach

The day following the attacks, South Walton switched to single red flag warnings, and beaches began to see an influx of visitors again, including at Watersound and Seacrest beaches.

By Sunday, just two days post-attack, Andrew Cady resumed his activities on his Sea-Doos, this time accompanied by his son, Brandon, 22, and Brandon’s girlfriend, Elizabeth, 19.

They ventured about 100 yards offshore, enjoying sightings of manatees, stingrays, tarpon, and sea turtles. Near Grayton Beach, a 7-foot bull shark frequently bumped Cady’s Sea-Doo, swam beneath Brandon’s, and then leaped out of the water between the two crafts. Cady recorded this encounter on his GoPro and shared it on Facebook, alongside footage of the earlier shark incident at Inlet Beach.

Yet again, he sped back to shore to alert swimmers about the shark.

At this point, Cady mentioned that he wouldn’t let his children return to the water until he has a clearer understanding of the situation regarding the sharks.

“Something is going on with the shark population in this area, and we’re just not comfortable with it,” he stated.

Since the June 7 attacks, there have been at least eight additional shark incidents reported in Florida and Texas, including four in a single day off South Padre Island, Texas.

On June 10, just three days after the 30A attacks, Seacrest Beach, where Lulu faced her ordeal, was packed with blue and pink beach umbrellas, welcoming hundreds of visitors eager to sunbathe or enjoy the waves.

Around 9:30 a.m., multiple individuals reported spotting a shark in the shallow waters. Swimmers hurried out of the water and congregated on the beach, pointing at the large, shadowy figure moving through the water.

The water was crystal clear.

In the background, vibrant yellow and purple flags danced in the wind above the boardwalk, inviting more guests to the beach.

Jervis, a national correspondent for YSL News, is based in Austin. Follow him on X: @MrRJervis.