The families of L.A. wildfire victims face the shortcomings that hindered their escape.

 A month after the devastation, both the public and California’s government are confronted with difficult questions regarding their response to wildfires.

As the Eaton Fire reached her disabled brother-in-law’s home, Jackie McDaniels tried in vain to get help.

Feb. 8, 2025, 6:00 PM GMT+6

As a wildfire ravaged Altadena, California, in the early hours of January 8, Jackie McDaniels scrambled to reach her brother-in-law, Anthony Mitchell. He had called to say that flames had reached his house and he and his son were trapped inside.

“Stay on the phone with me,” Mitchell, 68, pleaded with McDaniels as he awaited help from emergency services. McDaniels had been evacuating her own home but turned around to head toward Mitchell’s cottage on West Terrace Street.

Mitchell, a diabetic who had his leg amputated three years ago, would have been able to escape in his wheelchair. However, he was not about to leave his son, Justin, 38, who had cerebral palsy and was unable to get out of bed without assistance. With no caregivers or family present, they had called 911 for help.

By the time McDaniels arrived at their street, the garage was engulfed in flames. She stayed on the phone with Mitchell, urging him to get into his wheelchair, as she heard him reassuring his son, “Daddy’s coming.” After hanging up, she immediately called 911, then opened the front door to a thick cloud of black smoke. Distraught, she flagged down a firefighter, who informed her that anyone inside was likely already dead and that he couldn’t risk entering the burning house. He urged her to evacuate, too, as she was at risk of losing her own chance of survival.

Mitchell and his family were among the many caught off guard by the powerful, fast-spreading fires that began on January 7. These fires ravaged drought-stricken hillsides, fanned by 60 mph winds, leaving at least 29 people dead and thousands of homes destroyed. The first fire ignited in the morning in Pacific Palisades, while the second began in Eaton Canyon, roughly 30 miles away, later that evening.

An analysis of the deaths revealed that many victims were elderly or disabled, making it difficult for them to evacuate without assistance. Most did not receive evacuation orders until it was nearly too late. Some had requested help from emergency services that never arrived. Others, having survived previous warnings, assumed this fire would not pose a serious threat. But this fire advanced faster than they had anticipated. When the flames reached their doorsteps, some attempted to fight the fire with garden hoses and pool water.

Among the victims was an 83-year-old retired Lockheed Martin manager, a 32-year-old former Australian child actor who was blind and had cerebral palsy, and a 95-year-old former Black Hollywood actress.

One month later, the public and the state of California are grappling with the weaknesses in their wildfire response systems, which are becoming increasingly inadequate in the face of growing, more frequent fires due to climate change. The tragic stories of those who perished in the January fires expose the vulnerabilities that prevented many from reaching safety, even with early warnings.

“Are we okay with these events happening, or are we going to allocate the resources necessary to create effective systems for warning people and assisting them?” asked Gerald Singleton, a lawyer specializing in wildfire cases, who is representing victims of the fires. “Are we going to ensure that they can evacuate on time, or are we going to say, ‘This is not a service the government provides. You are on your own?’”

The deadly fire in Eaton Canyon was first reported around 6:18 p.m. on January 7. Thirty minutes later, emergency alerts were sent to residents in eastern Altadena, closest to the flames. Evacuation orders followed at 7:26 p.m.

However, in the western part of the town, where Mitchell and his son lived, no alerts were sent until 3:25 a.m. on January 8.

Earlier that evening, Mitchell had called paramedics to arrange transportation to his sister's house. But Cassandra Mitchell, his sister, said no one showed up. When she spoke with him at around 6 a.m., Mitchell seemed certain that help was on the way.

“I went to sleep, and then he called me that morning and said, ‘Sis, they’re going to come bring me to your house. Give me your address, and they’re coming,’” Cassandra Mitchell recalled. “He didn’t sound nervous. He didn’t sound distressed.”

But by the time he was speaking to McDaniels, the fire had already reached his home.

McDaniels nearly didn't make it out herself, the smoke so thick she could barely see. As she fled, she felt a deep sense of helplessness. “You can’t do anything and you know there’s people in there,” she said. “I just have to assume the smoke got to them because I didn’t hear any screaming or pain.”

People with disabilities are particularly vulnerable in emergencies like wildfires, as their ability to evacuate depends on timely warnings and assistance. However, advocates argue that those with disabilities are often overlooked when it comes to disaster planning.

A 2019 report from the state auditor revealed that California was failing to adequately protect older adults and people with disabilities during disasters. Benjamin Kahn, a coordinator for the Disability Community Resource Center, stated that Los Angeles-area agencies have made strides to include disabled people in emergency planning, but advocates say that there is still much more to be done.

“Evacuation advisories may go out, but many people don’t have the support systems to evacuate, find shelter, or even know where to go when their homes are threatened,” said German Parodi, co-executive director of the Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies.

Anthony Mitchell’s daughter, Hajime White, who lives in Arkansas, could not come to terms with the fact that her father and brother died while waiting for help.

“Y’all left them to fend for themselves, didn’t have the courtesy to come and rescue them,” White said. “You failed my dad. You failed my brother. You failed them. They were handicapped.”

Erliene Kelley, 83, a retired pharmacy technician, was active and independent. Her family said she would have evacuated if she had felt it was necessary. When the fire broke out on January 7, Kelley declined relatives' offers to evacuate, reasoning that her area had not been seriously affected by fires in the past.

“She was like, ‘No, it’s fine,’” said Kelley’s granddaughter, Briana Navarro, who had evacuated with her own family earlier that evening. “There was a major fire maybe 30 years ago, but none of the houses burned down then.”

Navarro checked in with her grandmother throughout the night, but she noticed a few of her text messages didn’t go through. Kelley’s son, Trevor Kelley, drove to her house that night but found her sitting with two flashlights. She refused to leave, saying, “Why would I go to your house when I just saw on the news that they had a voluntary evacuation?”

This type of response is not uncommon in disaster zones, where early warnings may not reach people in time, or when individuals do not believe the fire will reach them.

Trevor Kelley left for a hotel with his wife, but when he woke up at 5:30 a.m., he discovered that his mother had texted him an evacuation alert at 3:30 a.m. He tried calling her but couldn’t get through, as she lived in a dead zone. He rushed to her house, but by the time he arrived, it was too late. Her home was gone, and he later learned that her body had been found in the ruins.

The aftermath of the fires has prompted multiple investigations into the failures in emergency response, with local, state, and federal authorities examining both the cause of the fires and the factors that hindered evacuations.

Anthony Marrone, the county fire chief, acknowledged the overwhelming challenge firefighters faced when battling multiple large fires in extreme conditions. He also recommended creating a database to track people with mobility and health challenges, ensuring that they are prioritized in early evacuations.

Los Angeles County's evacuation system also faced issues, including incorrectly sending warnings to nearly 10 million homes. Some residents received incorrect alerts, while others received multiple or late notifications. U.S. Rep. Robert Garcia and other officials have called for answers from federal agencies, emphasizing that clear, timely emergency alerts are critical for saving lives.

In Pacific Palisades, where the first fire ignited on January 7, many residents fled as soon as they saw the fire approaching. Others, like Randy Miod, who had lived through many wildfires before, stayed behind.

“I’ve got a hose,” Miod told his mother when she urged him to leave. He didn't think the fire would reach him. But it did, and his body was later found near the remains of his home.

Victor Shaw, 66, also stayed behind to protect his family home in Altadena. His body was discovered with a hose in his hand, an attempt to save his property from the advancing flames. Shaw’s death, like Miod’s, raised difficult questions about why evacuation orders came too late and why more wasn't done to help them leave in time.

“If things were different,” Shaw’s cousin, Darlene Miller, said, “I think he’d still be here.”