it’s a buzzing homecoming parade in Texas, floats cruising down Goliad Street, folks lining the sidewalks hollering under those starry evening skies. Up on the Rockwall High School cheer team’s float, 17-year-old Tyra Winters is soaking it all in, waving and smiling. Then, out of nowhere, she spots trouble-a mom in the crowd looking panicked, clutching her little boy whose face is turning from beet red to a scary shade of purple. The kid’s not making a peep-no cough, no cry, just fighting for air in silence. Tyra doesn’t hesitate she jumps right off that moving float and bolts through the people.
That split-second move back on September 18, 2019, made Tyra an instant hero. She saved 2-year-old Clarke Hornback from choking on a piece of candy some say it was a Jolly Rancher, others taffy that got tossed out during the fun.
A tweet from X.
Nicole Hornback, Clarke’s mom, was just chilling at the parade with her son when she handed him the candy. Next thing she knows, he’s gone quiet.
“I glanced over, and there was nothing no noise, no cough, no breath,”
She later told folks. His cheeks flushed red, then purple, as he struggled without a sound, a sure sign his airway was totally blocked.
Little ones, like Clarke, are just perfect targets because they have narrow throats, tiny, just about the size of a straw, and because they are always popping stuff in their mouths to see what it is. Candy’s especially tricky because of its sticky or hard bits that can get stuck good. Nicole tried slapping his back and even the Heimlich, but nothing worked, and she started freaking out.
“Feeling so helpless as his mom was the scariest thing ever,”
She said. In desperation, she ran around holding him up, begging strangers for help without words.
Tyra, who was all smiles waving from the float, hears the commotion.
“I see this tiny red-faced kid, his mom lifting him up, pleading,”
She recounted to reporters. Their eyes meet, and Tyra knows it’s now or never. She hops down four or five feet, no big deal and rushes over.
“I’ve got him,”
She says, taking Clarke from Nicole.
For a toddler, you don’t do the full-on Heimlich like with grown-ups. Tyra flips him face-down over her arm, holds his head steady, and gives a couple firm whacks between his shoulder blades two or three times. On the last one, out pops the candy. Clarke gasps, then starts crying, which is music to everyone’s ears because it means he’s breathing again. Paramedics nearby give him a quick once-over, say he’s good, but they take him to the hospital just to be safe. He was out the same day, back to his toddler self.
Tyra’s calm came from knowing her stuff. She’d picked up the technique from her mom, who works in child protective services and runs a foster home, always drilling CPR and first aid into the family.
“I just knew what to do,”
Tyra said. It’s a perfect example of why schools should teach this Texas has laws like HB 63 requiring CPR in high schools, and groups like the American Heart Association say it’s bumped up survival rates in emergencies by more than 50%.
Choking’s still a huge killer for kids under 5 over 1,200 cases in 2019 alone, according to the CDC. But basic skills learned young can stop disasters before they happen.
The whole Rockwall community went nuts for Tyra. The school board gave her a special shout-out, the city honored her as a hero, and she even threw the first pitch at a Texas Rangers game. The families got together at the school not long after, where Clarke gave Tyra a high-five.
“She saved my baby,”
Nicole said, full of thanks. Word spread on social media, highlighting how Tyra, a Black teenager, stepped up for a white family a feel-good story cutting through all the usual divides.
