“One minute he was chasing the finish line. The next, he was facing the fight of his life.”
On July 13, 2025, athletic and adventurous teen Tanner LaMagna sustained a life-changing spinal cord injury.
Tanner’s family found Help Hope Live the following September and began fundraising for the extensive paralysis-related costs that insurance doesn’t fully cover, including rehabilitation, specialized medical equipment, home modifications, and an accessible van.
In less than a year, they raised over $39,000 in Tanner’s honor.
Tanner and his family have experienced the far-reaching impact of paralysis as they’ve marked the first year since his injury. The year has been full of devastating moments and, as mom Tara shared, “some of the most beautiful ones, too.”
Tanner and his family celebrate life and embrace all that hasn’t changed, including Tanner’s laugh, his smile, his sarcasm, his dreams, and his spirit. They’ve navigated grief, fear, anger, exhaustion, sadness, advocacy, small victories, and the power of community support.
A July 2026 update from Tanner’s family brought light to life after paralysis by exploring how one small moment—and one fish—rekindled hope. In Tara’s words, here’s what happened:
This is a story about a boy and a fish.
To some people, a fish is just a fish. To this boy, it meant the world.
On Friday evening, we headed to the Beaverhead River. Tanner asked if there was a chance he could catch a cutthroat trout. His father Dave smiled and told him it would be really difficult.
Cutthroat trout are native fish that can be elusive, especially when you’re learning a new river and an entirely new way to fly fish with paralysis.
When we arrived, Tanner and I stayed in the air conditioning while the group and guides got everything ready. Me and Tanner’s older brother, Dominic, would fish from one drift boat while Dave and Tanner would be in another.
I’ll be honest: I was nervous.
The boat launch was steep. All I could think about was how they were going to get my son into the boat and down the ramp.
Tanner backed his travel chair up to the boat. Dave and a fishing guide lifted from below. Two others lifted from inside the boat.
They carefully transferred Tanner into the drift boat, ratcheted his chair securely to the front, and then eased down the launch.
In our boat, Dom and I didn’t catch a single fish—just each other’s lines a few times. We laughed, admired the breathtaking Montana scenery, and simply enjoyed being together on the river.
Over in the other boat, Tanner had borrowed a special brace from Shepherd Center that attached the fly rod to his arm. He, his father, and their guide spent time figuring out the best way to make it work.
Tanner held the rod while Dave helped to support some of the weight and assisted with casting.
They figured it out, together. Three bites…then one fish.
A beautiful cutbow trout, a naturally occurring hybrid between a cutthroat trout and a rainbow trout. It fought hard, nearly stripping all the line before they finally brought it to the boat.
Tanner had tears in his eyes, and he gave his dad the biggest hug. At that moment, the sparkle was back.
As a parent, there are moments you tuck away forever. Watching your child light up. Seeing a joy you’ve never seen before—on an even deeper level. It meant more than words can describe.
Not because Tanner caught a fish: because he rediscovered a piece of himself.
Before his spinal cord injury, fishing wasn’t just something Tanner enjoyed. It was a part of who he was. If we were anywhere near water, he had a fishing rod in his hands. On vacations, he’d fish from sunrise until dark if we let him.
After his injury, Tanner wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to fish again. We answered that question. That fish wasn’t just a fish: it was a possibility. It was hope. It was confidence.
It was proof that he can still do the things he loves with paralysis.
Tanner and Dave didn’t catch that fish alone. They caught it together, as a father and son learning, adapting, problem-solving, and celebrating side by side. It’s a memory neither of them will ever forget.
Later that evening, Tanner quietly looked at me and thanked me for applying for the trip, which happened via the High Fives Foundation. That trip put hope on the line and gave Tanner the confidence to believe in himself again.
It was a reminder that passions don’t have to end because of a spinal cord injury. Sometimes, they just look different.
No, this wasn’t just a story about a fish. It was about a boy who wondered if one of his greatest passions was behind him, a dad who never stopped believing, and a group of people who refused to accept “You can’t.”
To some, a fish is just a fish. To us, that day, it was everything.
Our family left Montana believing, more than ever before, that life after a spinal cord injury can still be full of adventure, purpose, and joy.
Make a tax-deductible donation to Help Hope Live in Tanner’s honor at helphopelive.org. Follow Tanner’s adventures on Facebook and TikTok.
