A family SUV at the bottom of a cliff

Before the cliff: four children in the Texas system

Long before the crash, four siblings—Dontay, Devonte, Jeremiah and Ciera—were born into a fragile family in Texas. ^[2] Their mother, Sherry Hurd, struggled with long‑term drug use and moved in and out of the house where the children lived with her partner. ^[2]

By 2004, the state’s attention had turned firmly on the family. Jeremiah was born that year with cocaine in his system. ^[2] After Ciera’s birth in 2005, Hurd tested positive for cocaine. ^[2] That same year, when Dontay was eight years old, the state removed him and his siblings from their home. ^[2]

The foster‑care placements that followed were harsh from the start. In their first foster home, Dontay lashed out and threatened his younger brothers, and the foster mother reported that his eyes rolled back in his head when he was angry. ^[2] After just seven days, workers separated him from his siblings and placed him in a psychiatric hospital. ^[2]

He stayed there for three weeks. He later said he was sedated multiple times with a shot that rendered him unconscious. ^[2] From the hospital he was routed to an emergency shelter, then to a therapeutic foster home for children with severe behavioral problems. ^[2] By the time he was 10, he had already changed placements seven times; over his childhood in care, that number would climb to 11. ^[2]

Academically, he slipped behind. While in state care, he fell so far behind in school that by ninth grade he read at a fourth‑grade comprehension level. ^[2]

Psychiatrists and caseworkers cycled him through diagnoses—bipolar disorder, ADHD, oppositional defiant disorder. ^[2] The prescriptions piled up: Depakote, Risperidone, Clonidine, Trazodone, Cogentin, Tenex, Concerta, Adderall. ^[2]

In January 2007, authorities placed the 14‑year‑old in a nonprofit residential treatment center in Houston called Serenity Place, a more restrictive setting than a family home. ^[2] Staff there documented intimate details of his daily life, down to how many pairs of clean socks he had and whether he brushed his teeth. ^[2]

For years, the state moved Dontay and medicated him. What it did not do was keep him with his siblings.

The children Jennifer and Sarah took — and the one they didn’t

In 2006, there was a brief flicker of normalcy. Dontay reunited with his siblings—Devonte, Jeremiah and Ciera—when child‑welfare workers sent the children to live with their aunt, Priscilla Celestine. ^[2] It did not last.

During a surprise caseworker visit, officials found the children alone with their mother, and removed them on the spot. ^[2] Celestine appealed the decision to take the children from her care. ^[2]

Woodland, Washington: Warnings no one stopped

Before they headed down the Northern California coast, Jennifer and Sarah Hart were living with their six adopted children in Woodland, Washington. ^[1][2] In the days leading up to the crash, neighbors in Woodland reported the parents to social workers, alleging possible child neglect. ^[1]

Those allegations came just before the family left home for what would be their final drive. ^[1]

The intentional plunge off Highway 1

Authorities began piecing together the crash once the wrecked SUV was spotted at the base of the cliff in Mendocino County. ^[1]

Jennifer Hart was 38 years old. ^[1] Investigators concluded that she was legally drunk when she drove the SUV 100 feet into the Pacific Ocean off a remote stretch of Highway 1, killing herself, her wife and three of their six children. ^[1] Toxicology results showed that her wife, Sarah Hart, had a “significant amount” of an ingredient primarily used in Benadryl in her system. ^[1] Two of the children were also determined to have “Benadryl‑type substances in their system.” ^[1]

The desperate search for three missing children

For 12 days, search crews combed the murky waters off Northern California looking for the three missing Hart children. ^[1] Authorities believed they were the adopted siblings who had not been recovered from the crash site. ^[1]

The search was intensive. A team of divers and pilots operated above and below the crash site, scanning the cliffs and the cold water beneath. ^[1]

The case drew the attention of federal authorities. The FBI issued missing‑persons posters for the three unaccounted‑for Hart siblings. ^[1] One poster was for 16‑year‑old Hannah Jean Hart. ^[1] Another was for 15‑year‑old Devonte Jordan Hart. ^[1] A third listed 12‑year‑old Ciera Maija Hart; on the poster, her name was misspelled as “Sierra.” ^[1]

An FBI statement warned that “The missing children could currently be traveling together.” ^[1] At that point, searchers did not know whether the three had been in the SUV when it went over the edge, or whether they had somehow survived and left the area. ^[1]

On April 7, crews pulled what appeared to be the body of an African American female from the water. ^[1] Ten days later, on Tuesday, April 17, authorities identified the body as belonging to Ciera Hart. ^[1] The discovery confirmed that at least one of the missing children had been in the SUV and involved in the fatal crash. ^[1]

Even then, investigators were cautious. FBI spokeswoman Cameron Rogers Polan said the discovery of Ciera’s body did “not necessarily” place all the children in the SUV. ^[1] Authorities said they would continue their search for Devonte and Hannah. ^[1]

Later reporting would state that Jennifer and Sarah Hart had driven the family SUV off the California cliff in March 2018, killing themselves and their six children. ^[2] But two of those children—Devonte and Hannah—have never been recovered from the ocean.

The brother who learned the truth too late

When the Hart SUV went off the cliff in California, Dontay was locked in a Texas prison cell, serving time for robbery. ^[2] He had not seen Devonte, Jeremiah and Ciera since they were 4, 2 and 1 years old, respectively. ^[2]

He did not learn that they were dead until October 2018, when he was released from prison. ^[2] By then, the search off Mendocino County had ended; the missing‑persons posters had faded from the news; the crash had already been framed as an intentional act. ^[1][2]

He was the brother the Harts did not adopt. ^[2] His life had been defined by the very system that was supposed to protect him and his siblings: multiple placements, powerful psychotropic drugs, long stints in residential treatment, and a suicide attempt at age 10 after his final separation from his brothers and sister. ^[2]

While he struggled in Texas, his siblings were taken to another state by parents who, years later, would be reported for possible child neglect in the days before driving them toward a California cliff. ^[1][2]

What the Hart case revealed about child welfare

Dontay’s path through foster care unfolded against a broader reckoning with how Texas treated children in its long‑term custody.

In 2011, the advocacy group Children’s Rights filed a class‑action lawsuit against the state, alleging routine moves, overmedication and abuse of children in state care. ^[2] In 2015, a federal judge ruled that Texas had violated the rights of children in state care and ordered sweeping reforms, including reduced caseworker caseloads. ^[2]

State officials later reported some changes. Patrick Crimmins of the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services said psychotropic use among children in state care dropped from 30% in 2005 to less than 15% in 2017. ^[2] State data showed that 54% of sibling groups in Texas were placed together in 2008; a decade later, that figure had risen to 65%. ^[2]

Nationally, concerns over institutional settings and overmedication helped drive legislative reform. Congress passed the Family First Prevention Services Act, which limits group‑care settings and sets new standards for residential treatment centers to receive federal funding. ^[2]

Those reforms came too late for Devonte, Jeremiah and Ciera, and for the brother who spent his childhood being moved, medicated and separated from them. ^[2]

The Hart crash forced the public to confront two failures at once. In Washington and California, local agencies and neighbors had raised flags about how Jennifer and Sarah were treating their children in the days before the SUV went over the cliff. ^[1] In Texas, years earlier, a different set of decisions had divided four siblings and sent them down radically different paths—one to prison and hard survival, three to a family that would end in a deliberate plunge into the Pacific. ^[1][2]

What remains is not just the mystery of what exactly happened in the final hours before the Yukon sped off Highway 1, but the quieter question of how many chances there were, along the way, to keep a set of brothers and sisters safe—and together.