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Born in the Philippines, Manny, 52, and Claire, 47, had lived in the hillside village of Kuhua Camp for 20 years with their extended family.

The Ceraldes, who spoke to NBC News in a series of interviews in English and in their native Tagalog through a translator, said they had started permitted renovations on their house on Aki Street in 2022 to add two apartments. One was intended to be a rental property, and the other was for Claire’s mother, Revelina Tomboc, and her sister, Bibiana “Bhing” Lutriana, 58, who both had lived with the family for more than a decade.  

Manny said he and Claire were thrilled when an affordable rental opened up less than three blocks away. That way, Tomboc could live comfortably during the construction and still visit her grandchildren every day and watch Korean soap operas with Claire. 

That Tuesday morning in August, Manny and Claire didn’t worry as winds whipped the neighborhood and knocked the power out. They’d weathered heavy storms before. Claire crept out of the house around 6 a.m., careful not to wake her family, before driving 10 minutes north to a Ka’anapali hotel, where she worked as a cashier.

Around noon, Manny stepped out of Safeway market after finishing his shift as a wine merchandiser. He saw dark plumes gathering above his neighborhood off Lahainaluna Road, a main thoroughfare.

He assumed the fire was under control as he drove home to rest before leaving for his second job. Manny heard sirens in the distance but did not see any fire trucks. “I had peace of mind. I trusted them,” he said later of the firefighters.

Still, Manny packed cash savings and rare coin collectibles into a backpack and set it next to him in case of an evacuation. He lay down on his living room couch around 2:30 p.m. 

About the same time, a few blocks away, Vanessa Keau pulled up to a home on Mela Street to check on her 83-year-old mother, Gwendolyn Kanani Puou. Keau went inside her mom’s house, but no one was there. She went downstairs and knocked on the door to the studio apartment rented to Manny’s in-laws — Tomboc and Lutriana. No one answered.

Keau’s mother didn’t have a car — and neither did her tenants. Before Keau drove away, she prayed that her mother, who had diabetes and a weak heart, was somewhere safe. 

Around 3 p.m., Manny bolted out the door of his house with his son, piling into the truck with the rest of his family. He forgot his bag of cash and collectibles. 

After seeing the big mango tree blocking Aki Street to the right, Manny took a left to escape — the opposite direction of his in-laws’ home.

He drove over scattered tree limbs and debris before passing an old woman he didn’t recognize outside her house. She held a hose with water barely dripping from its nozzle. He noticed the bottom of her dress starting to catch fire.

He thought of trying to squeeze her in the already packed truck. But Manny’s mother cautioned him against opening the door. She feared that smoke would billow in and could overcome them, he said.

“If I got hurt,” he thought, “no one could drive for my family.”

Manny kept driving, eventually passing through an adjacent subdivision with wider streets before taking a highway out of town.

With his neighborhood burning behind him, his mind flashed to the faces of Tomboc and Lutriana. He prayed that they’d made it out alive, too.

Around 6:30 p.m., Manny made it safely with his family to the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Kapalua, about 10 miles north, where he works busing tables in a restaurant. Cellphone service was down, so he couldn’t reach his wife.   

Meanwhile, Claire had no idea about her family’s narrow escape or the destruction of her home. She had been busy working all day as 60 mph winds hammered the island and hotel guests stocked up on supplies. After Claire left work at 4 p.m. and headed toward Lahaina, her stomach dropped as she saw the smoke and ruin. 

She tried calling her mother, sister, husband and children, but no one picked up or responded to her texts. She lost cell reception as she approached Lahaina and turned back toward the hotel. With cellphone and internet service down for days, Manny and Claire relied on word of mouth to learn that each other was OK. 

But no one had heard from Claire’s mother and sister. 

Claire kept calling and texting as the days stretched into weeks and the rescue efforts turned into recovery missions. Relatives in the Philippines pressed Claire for information, but she had nothing to share. 

Claire and Manny couldn’t get rooms in the hotel to fit their whole family, so they were forced to split up for several weeks and visit each other. Claire stayed awake all night wondering if her mother and sister were alive. 

On Aug. 16, Claire reluctantly joined a long procession of people who had their cheeks swabbed for DNA.

At the family’s other hotel, Manny tried to distract his children from the chaos by playing games in their room and telling them their grandmother and aunt would be OK. His mother-in-law was sharp and quick to act, he reminded them. She would have known what to do.

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