STT. Three Family Members Killed in Wrong-Way Crash, Leaving a Young Child as the Only Survivor
The night was supposed to end the way most family nights do, quietly, with sleep following laughter.
A Christmas party had wrapped the Pena family in warmth, music, and the ordinary joy of being together.
There were hugs before goodbyes, leftover sweets packed into napkins, and promises to see each other again soon.
No one sensed that this drive home would be their last as a family.
Diego Pena Jr. sat behind the wheel, alert but relaxed, guiding the car through the familiar stretch of Texas highway.
Lizbeth Rodriguez Contreras sat beside him, scrolling through photos from the night, smiling softly.
In the back seat, five-year-old Camila leaned against her little brother, already drifting in and out of sleep.
Three-year-old Dieguito clutched a small toy, his head heavy with exhaustion, his world safe and complete.
It was just after 2 a.m.
The highway was quiet in the way roads often are when most of the world is asleep.
Streetlights passed rhythmically, casting brief shadows that disappeared as quickly as they formed.
The car moved forward, carrying a young family home, unaware of what was coming.
At the same time, another vehicle entered the highway from the opposite direction.
Behind its wheel was a woman whose judgment had been dulled by alcohol.
Her car drifted into oncoming traffic, crossing an invisible line that would forever divide before and after.
There was no warning.
No time to brake.
No chance to turn away.
The impact was violent and unforgiving.
Metal crushed metal with a force that erased the ordinary moments just seconds earlier.
The sound echoed into the night, followed by a silence that felt unnatural.
Lizbeth and Camila died instantly at the scene.
Their lives ended together, mother and daughter bound in love until the final moment.
Diego was still alive when emergency responders arrived.
His injuries were severe, his body broken by the force meant for no one.
He was rushed to the hospital, clinging to life with a determination that reflected how deeply he loved his family.
Doctors worked urgently, doing everything they could to save him.
But the injuries were too great.
Not long after, Diego Pena Jr. died in the hospital.
A husband.
A father.
Gone.
In a matter of moments, three lives were erased from the future they were building.
The only survivor was Dieguito.
The little boy was pulled from the wreckage alive, injured, confused, and crying.
He did not understand where his mother was.
He did not understand why his sister was not waking up.
He did not understand why his father was no longer holding his hand.
All he knew was pain, fear, and unfamiliar faces surrounding him.
Dieguito was taken to the hospital, where doctors confirmed he would need surgery.
He remained hospitalized, his small body fighting to heal while his life had already changed forever.
He woke up in a hospital bed without parents to call his name.
Without a sister to laugh beside him.
Without the family that had defined his entire world just hours earlier.
The word “orphan” does not belong to a three-year-old.
Yet that is what Dieguito became in one night.
Police later identified the driver responsible for the crash as Majesty Faith Lee, age 27.
Authorities said she was intoxicated when she drove into oncoming traffic.
She was arrested and taken to Fort Bend County Jail.
Her bond was set at $1,050,000.
But no number could measure the damage done.
No jail cell could contain the weight of what was lost.
The Pena family was not wealthy.
They were not famous.
They were not looking for attention or tragedy.
They were simply a young family doing what millions of families do every holiday season.
They went to a party.
They drove home.
They trusted that the road would be safe.
Lizbeth was a teacher, someone who spent her days shaping young minds with patience and care.
She was known for her kindness, her warmth, and her dedication to her students.
Camila was five years old, at an age where curiosity fills every moment.
She loved to ask questions.
She loved to play.
She loved her little brother fiercely.
Diego was a devoted father and husband.
He worked hard, dreamed quietly, and measured success by the happiness of his family.
Together, they were building a life.
They had plans for the future.
School days.
Birthdays.
Family holidays yet to come.
All of it ended on a dark highway.
The sheriff later released a statement.
He said the tragedy was a painful reminder of how quickly life can change when someone chooses to drive under the influence.
He spoke of responsibility.
Of consequences.
Of choices.
But statements cannot undo what happened.
Words cannot return parents to a child.
What remains is grief.
And a little boy who must grow up without the people who loved him first.
Relatives now face the unbearable task of planning three funerals.
They must decide on flowers and songs while still in shock.
They must explain to Dieguito why his family is gone, when there are no words that can make sense of it.
This story is not about statistics.
It is not about court records or legal charges.
It is about a family that went out together and never came home whole.
It is about a child who survived a crash but lost everything else.
And it is about a choice that was made long before impact.
A choice to drink.
A choice to drive.
A choice that stole three lives and shattered many more.
Some tragedies arrive quietly, with time to prepare.
This one arrived in seconds.
And its consequences will last a lifetime.
