LA residents are still battling toxic hazards a year after historic
wildfires
[January 05, 2026]
By DORANY PINEDA and JAE C. HONG
ALTADENA, Calif. (AP) — “DANGER: Lead Work Area” reads a sign on a front
door of an Altadena home. “May damage fertility or the unborn child.
Causes damage to the central nervous system.”
Block after block there are reminders that contaminants still linger.
House cleaners, hazardous waste workers and homeowners alike come and go
wearing masks, respirators, gloves and hazmat suits as they wipe, vacuum
and power-wash homes that weren’t burnt to ash.
It’s been a year of heartbreak and worry since the most destructive
wildfires in the Los Angeles area's history scorched neighborhoods and
displaced tens of thousands of people. Two wind-whipped blazes that
ignited on Jan. 7, 2025, killed at least 31 people and destroyed nearly
17,000 structures, including homes, schools, businesses and places of
worship. Rebuilding will take years.
The disaster has brought another wave of trauma for people afraid of
what still lurks inside their homes.
Indoor air quality after wildfires remains understudied, and scientists
still don’t know the long-term health impacts of exposure to massive
urban fires like last year’s in Los Angeles. But some chemicals released
are known to be linked to heart disease and lung issues, and exposure to
minerals like magnetite has been associated with Alzheimer’s disease.
Ash in the area is a toxic soup of incinerated cars, electronics,
paints, furniture and every other kind of personal belonging. It can
contain pesticides, asbestos, plastics, lead or other heavy metals.
Many with homes still standing are now living with the hazards left by
the fires.

People forced back into their Altadena homes
Nina and Billy Malone considered their home of 20 years a safe haven
before smoke, ash and soot seeped inside, leaving behind harmful levels
of lead even after professional cleaning. Recent testing found the toxin
is still on the wooden floors of their living room and bedroom.
They were forced to move back home in August anyway, after insurance cut
off their rental assistance.
Since then, Nina wakes up almost daily with a sore throat and headaches.
Billy had to get an inhaler for his worsening wheezing and congestion.
And their bedroom, Nina said, smells “like an ashtray has been sitting
around for a long time." She worries most about exposure to unregulated
contaminants that insurance companies aren't required to test.
"I don’t feel comfortable in the space,” said Nina, whose neighbors'
homes burned down across the street.
They're not alone.
Data shows dangerous lead levels still in homes
According to a report released in November by the Eaton Fire Residents
United, a volunteer group formed by residents, six out of 10 homes
damaged from smoke from the Eaton Fire still have dangerous levels of
cancer-causing asbestos, brain-damaging lead or both. That’s based on
self-submitted data from 50 homeowners who have cleaned their homes,
with 78% hiring professional cleaners.
Of the 50 homes, 63% have lead levels above the Environmental Protection
Agency’s standard, according to the report. The average lead levels were
almost 60 times higher than the EPA's rule.
Even after fires were extinguished, volatile organic compounds from
smoke, some known to cause cancer, lingered inside of people's homes,
according to a recent study. To mitigate these risks, residents
returning home should ventilate and filter indoor air by opening windows
or running high-efficiency particulate air (HEPA) purifiers with
charcoal filters.

Zoe Gonzalez Izquierdo said she can’t get her insurance company to pay
for an adequate cleanup of her family's Altadena home, which tested
positive for dangerous levels of lead and other toxic compounds.
“They can’t just send a company that’s not certified to just wipe things
down so that then we can go back to a still contaminated home,” Gonzalez
said, who has children ages 2 and 4.
Experts believe the lead, which can linger in dust on floors and
windowsills, comes from burned lead paint. The University of Southern
California reported that more than 70% of homes within the Eaton Fire
were built before 1979, when lead paint was common.
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Nina Malone, whose home survived the Eaton Fire, stands for a photo
with a respirator she uses when cleaning fire debris inside her
home, Dec. 11, 2025, in Altadena, Calif. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)

“For individuals that are pregnant, for young children, it’s
particularly important that we do everything we can to eliminate
exposure to lead,” said pediatrician Dr. Lisa Patel, executive director
for the Medical Society Consortium on Climate and Health and a member of
the climate group Science Moms.
The same goes for asbestos, she added, because there is no safe level of
exposure.
‘We have to live in the scar’
People who lived in the Pacific Palisades, which was also scorched, face
similar challenges.
Residents are at the mercy of their insurance companies, who decide on
what they cover and how much. It’s a grueling, constant battle for many.
The state’s insurer of last resort, known as the California Fair Access
to Insurance Requirements Plan, has been scrutinized for years over its
handling of fire damage claims.
Homeowners want state agencies to enforce a requirement that insurance
companies return a property to pre-fire condition.
Julie Lawson won't take any risks. Her family paid about $7,000 out of
pocket to test the soil in their Altadena home, even though their
insurance company had already agreed to pay to replace the grass in
their front yard. They planned to test for contaminants again once they
finished remediating the inside, the process of making a home
contaminant-free after a fire. If insurance won't cover it, they'll pay
for it themselves.
Even if their home is livable again, they still face other losses —
including equity and the community they once had.
“We have to live in the scar," she said. “We're all still really
struggling."
They will be living in a construction zone for years. “This isn't over
for us.”
Challenges and mental health toll
Annie Barbour with the nonprofit United Policyholders has been helping
people navigate the challenges, which include insurance companies
resisting to pay for contamination testing and industrial hygienists
disagreeing on what to test for.

She sees the mental health toll it's having on people — and as a
survivor herself of the 2017 Tubbs Fire in Northern California, she
understands it.
Many were at first joyful to see their houses still standing.
“But they’ve been in their own special kind of hell ever since,” Barbour
said.
Now residents like the Malones are inspecting their belongings, one by
one, fearing they may have absorbed toxins.
Boxes, bags and bins stuffed with clothes, chinaware and everything in
between fill the couple's car, basement, garage and home.
They have been painstakingly going through their things, assessing what
they think can be adequately cleaned. In the process, Nina is cleaning
cabinets, drawers, floors and still finding soot and ash. She wears
gloves and a respirator, or sometimes just an N-95 mask.
Their insurance won't pay to retest their home, Billy said, so they're
considering paying the $10,000 themselves. And if results show there's
still contamination, their insurance company told them they will only
pay to clean up toxins that are federally regulated, like lead and
asbestos.
“I don't know how you fight that,” said Nina, who is considering therapy
to cope with her anxiety. “How do you find that argument to compel an
insurance company to pay for something to make yourself safe?”
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AP staff writer Alex Veiga contributed to this report.
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