Jeep crashes into Amish horse-drawn buggy near Berne, leaving father airlifted and several children injured.

What began as a calm October evening in the Indiana countryside erupted into tragedy within moments when a Jeep collided with a horse-drawn Amish buggy traveling along State Road 218 near Berne. A routine trip home for a family quickly transformed into a sprawling nighttime emergency scene across the rural roadway. Dispatchers received the call shortly after 11:20 p.m. on October 7, and the sight that greeted responders was devastating: the buggy torn apart across the highway, debris flung far from the point of impact, and a Jeep resting damaged in a nearby ditch.
Inside the buggy were nine occupants — a significant number under the best conditions, and a dangerous situation given the low visibility of a rural highway after dark. Seven individuals required medical attention. Six were minors, though their ages differed in early accounts. The buggy’s driver, 32-year-old Ruben L. M. Schwartz of Berne, sustained the most critical injuries and was transported by air to Lutheran Hospital — an immediate signal of the gravity of his condition. Twenty-year-old Joseph L. M. Schwartz and five children were transported by ambulance to Parkview Hospital for treatment. Two other passengers — 32-year-old Saraetta L. Schwartz and a 2-year-old — declined further care on-site, shaken but not physically harmed.
Authorities reported that the Jeep was operated by 33-year-old Bradley J. Ocilka of Burlington, Kentucky. Traveling eastbound, he struck the buggy from behind — a scenario familiar to those aware of the speed difference between modern vehicles and horse-drawn transportation. Without the benefit of bright headlights or reflective technology used on standard automobiles, buggies pose visibility challenges at night. Ocilka submitted to a legal blood draw but refused additional treatment. As of initial releases, no charges had been filed, though investigators made it clear the inquiry remained ongoing.
Within a short window, the scene filled with the glow of emergency lighting. Adams County EMS, police from Berne and Geneva, the Berne Fire Department, responders from Wells and Jay counties, Indiana State Police, and the Lutheran Hospital flight team all converged. The quiet roadway turned into a temporary rescue hub as officials prioritized injury assessments, treatments, and clearing hazards. Those present described a tense and distressing atmosphere — mangled wood, twisted metal, an unsettled horse, distressed children, and adults processing shock amid the dark.
Photographs shared later captured the severity: the buggy destroyed, its frame splintered, belongings scattered across the asphalt, and emergency responders lining the rural stretch. These roads serve as primary travel corridors for the large Swiss-Amish population of Adams County — routes familiar for work, worship, and daily life. Incidents like this ripple outward, impacting extended family networks and deeply connected community circles.
Anyone familiar with Amish regions knows nighttime buggy travel carries inherent risks. Motorists often misjudge the pace of a horse-drawn vehicle or fail to comprehend the limited reaction time available on narrow country roads. Safety advocates repeat the same guidelines: reduce your speed, keep your distance, and anticipate unpredictability when approaching a buggy. Reflective tape and lanterns provide some visibility, but they cannot compete with distraction or speed behind the wheel.
This collision stands as another heartbreaking example of the vulnerability of non-motorized travel in a system designed around fast-moving vehicles. A single miscalculation — a distraction, a lapse in judgment, a moment too late — can upend a family’s life in an instant. Amish families understand the risks inherent in their transportation choices, yet each crash inflicts deep emotional wounds, particularly in communities where children are numerous and family connection runs deep.
In the days immediately following, word spread through the community, and assistance began without delay. In Amish culture, support arrives organically — meals provided, responsibilities shared, childcare covered, and emotional comfort offered quietly and consistently. The Schwartz family will not face their challenges without a network around them.
Investigators continue to reconstruct the event. Interviews, vehicle assessments, crash-reconstruction analysis, and medical testing take time. It is typical that charges are not immediate, and officials assured the public that updates would follow as findings develop.
For residents in surrounding areas, the message shared by officials echoes one repeated year after year: reduce speed. Buggies will always be present. Their pace may frustrate drivers, but impatience cannot justify endangerment. A few extra seconds behind the wheel can prevent irreversible consequences. Those wishing to assist the family may see local churches or community groups organize relief efforts. Monetary help, meals, or thoughts and prayers are welcomed, but privacy and respect remain paramount.
The road to recovery will be long for the Schwartzes. Physical injuries require time; emotional trauma may linger far longer. Children ejected into a dark roadway remember what happened. Adults responsible for their safety often carry burdens of guilt, even when circumstances were entirely out of their control.
Yet, one certainty persists: rural Indiana knows how to stand together in difficult circumstances. The Amish community will draw inward in support, and the non-Amish population around them has already stepped forward. Crashes like this bind communities, not out of curiosity, but from awareness that these roads connect everyone — and tragedy can be just one moment away.
The investigation remains unresolved. Charges may or may not be forthcoming. But regardless of future legal outcomes, one message resonates: sharing the road with buggies demands patience and attention — more than most drivers assume.
Because lives depend on it — as this family has learned through unimaginable hardship.



