😭 “Daddy, Help Me – The Bar Is On Fire!” – The Desperate Call That Turned a Swiss Dad Into a Real-Life Hero As He Rushed Into Hell to Save His Daughter & 10 More Teens

New Year’s Eve was supposed to be magical for hundreds of young partygoers in the glamorous Swiss Alps… until sparklers ignited a nightmare inferno, trapping them in toxic smoke and flames that claimed 40 lives.

But one father, Paolo Campolo, got the call no parent ever wants: his 17-year-old daughter sobbing, screaming for help from inside the burning Le Constellation bar.

He didn’t wait for firefighters – he RAN straight into the danger, forcing open doors, pulling kids out with his bare hands, and guiding 11 terrified teens to safety.

In a tragedy full of heartbreak, this dad’s unbreakable love saved lives. The full heroic story that has the world crying… 👇

‘Help Me, Dad’: Hero Father Paolo Campolo Rushes Into Burning Swiss Bar After Daughter’s Panic Call, Saves Her and 10 Others

CRANS-MONTANA, Switzerland — Amid the horror of the deadly New Year’s fire that killed 40 people at Le Constellation bar, one father’s instinct turned him into a lifesaver: Paolo Campolo, 55, received a frantic phone call from his 17-year-old daughter trapped inside and raced to the scene, forcing open doors and guiding her plus 10 other young revelers to safety before firefighters fully arrived.

Campolo, an Italian-Swiss banker living nearby in the upscale ski resort, was at home celebrating quietly with his fiancée when his phone rang just after 1 a.m. on January 1, 2026. His daughter, Paolina — who had gone out with friends — was on the line, hysterical amid screams and chaos.

“She called me crying, saying ‘Dad, there’s a fire, smoke everywhere, help me,’” Campolo told reporters from his hospital bed, where he was treated for minor smoke inhalation. Without a second thought, he grabbed a flashlight, jumped in his car, and drove the short distance to the bar as black smoke billowed into the night sky.

By the time he arrived, panic had gripped the venue. The fire, sparked by festive sparklers igniting flammable acoustic foam on the ceiling around 1:30 a.m., had spread rapidly, filling the basement with thick, toxic fumes. Hundreds were trapped, with the main exit bottlenecked in a deadly crush.

Professional crews were en route, but Campolo acted immediately. Covering his mouth with a scarf, he approached a side or emergency door — accounts vary on exact details — and used brute force to pry it open or clear obstructions. “I could see bodies pressed against the glass through the smoke,” he described in interviews. Spotting his daughter and a group of terrified teens nearby, he shouted instructions, formed a chain, and led them out one by one.

In total, Campolo rescued 11 people: his unharmed but shaken daughter and 10 others, mostly teenagers and young adults who might otherwise have joined the tragic toll. “I pulled kids out with my bare hands,” he said modestly. Some reports credit him with smashing windows or clearing paths in the zero-visibility hell.

Paolina’s slight delay in arriving at the party — she stopped home first — positioned her near a more accessible area when disaster struck, allowing her to make that crucial call. Her boyfriend was also among those saved, according to family accounts.

First responders hailed Campolo’s quick thinking. “Civilians like him made a difference in those critical first minutes,” a Valais fire official stated. His actions provided a rare bright spot in a catastrophe that left 40 dead — including 20 minors, the youngest 14 — and 116 injured, many critically.

The blaze at Le Constellation, a popular basement nightclub in the heart of Crans-Montana’s nightlife, erupted during peak celebrations. Estimates put 300 inside, exceeding capacity, as sparklers on Champagne bottles sent embers to the outdated foam panels. Flashover occurred in seconds, producing poisonous smoke that overcame victims rapidly.

Most deaths resulted from inhalation, with bodies found piled near exits. Survivors described a scene of sheer terror: music blasting over screams, visibility gone, air unbreathable.

Campolo, released from hospital quickly, has downplayed the hero label. “Any father would do the same if their child called for help,” he insisted. But friends and locals disagree, calling him the “hero of Crans-Montana.” His fiancée alerted emergency services while he raced out, coordinating from home.

The tragedy has sparked outrage over safety lapses. Crans-Montana officials admitted no fire inspection at the venue since 2019, blaming delays from the pandemic and bureaucracy. The foam material, common in older clubs but highly combustible, failed modern standards. Indoor pyrotechnics face renewed scrutiny.

Prosecutors opened a criminal probe into the bar’s managers for potential negligence or involuntary manslaughter. Questions linger about overcrowding, exit markings, and whether secondary doors were properly accessible.

All victims have been identified, spanning Swiss, French, Italian, and other nationalities — many young skiers on holiday. Funerals are underway amid national mourning, with flags at half-staff and counseling overwhelmed.

Tributes include a massive human heart on a ski slope and silent marches. President Viola Amherd visited, praising responders and civilians like Campolo.

Other acts of bravery emerged: a security staffer reportedly died trying to help guests, and survivors formed chains to escape. But Campolo’s story — fueled by that life-changing call — has captured hearts worldwide.

Paolina, protected for privacy, is receiving support. Father and daughter have grown closer through the ordeal. “She’s safe — that’s everything,” Campolo said.

In a resort known for glamour and winter fun, the new year began in darkness. Yet tales like Campolo’s remind of human resilience and parental love’s power.

As investigations probe deeper — including recovered audio and video from victims’ phones — focus turns to reforms: stricter rules on materials, fireworks, and inspections.

Crans-Montana heals slowly, with the community vowing to honor the lost while celebrating quiet heroes who ran toward danger.

Paolo Campolo’s phone rang, and everything changed — not just for his family, but for 10 others who owe him their lives.