One Year Later, a Hidden Toxic Threat Endures
In the quiet community of Altadena, California, a stark warning hangs on a front door: "DANGER: Lead Work Area." The sign cautions of potential fertility damage, harm to unborn children, and central nervous system damage. This scene is repeated block after block, a grim reminder that the most destructive wildfires in Los Angeles history left behind more than just charred ruins. They left an invisible, toxic legacy inside homes that still stand.
It has been one year of heartbreak and worry since wind-whipped blazes, igniting on January 7, 2025, tore through neighbourhoods. The fires killed at least 31 people and destroyed nearly 17,000 structures, including homes, schools, and businesses. While rebuilding the physical landscape will take years, many residents are now confronting a more insidious challenge: hazardous contamination within their own walls.
House cleaners, hazardous waste workers, and homeowners move about in masks, respirators, and hazmat suits, wiping, vacuuming, and power-washing homes spared from total incineration. The ash left behind is a toxic cocktail of incinerated cars, electronics, paints, plastics, and personal belongings, potentially laden with pesticides, asbestos, lead, and other heavy metals.
Families Forced Back into Contaminated Homes
Nina and Billy Malone, who lived in their Altadena home for two decades, considered it a safe haven. That changed when smoke, ash, and soot seeped inside during the fires. Even after professional cleaning, recent testing found dangerous levels of lead persist on their wooden living room and bedroom floors.
Forced to move back in August after their insurance cut off rental assistance, the couple now lives with constant health worries. Nina suffers from near-daily sore throats and headaches. Billy's wheezing and congestion worsened, requiring an inhaler. Their bedroom, Nina says, smells "like an ashtray has been sitting around for a long time." Their greatest fear is exposure to unregulated contaminants that insurers are not required to test for.
"I don't feel comfortable in the space," said Nina, whose neighbours' homes across the street burned to the ground.
Data Reveals Widespread Lead and Asbestos Hazards
The Malones' experience is tragically common. A November report from the volunteer group Eaton Fire Residents United revealed alarming data. Based on self-submitted tests from 50 homeowners—78% of whom hired professional cleaners—six out of 10 homes damaged by smoke from the Eaton Fire still have dangerous levels of cancer-causing asbestos, brain-damaging lead, or both.
The report found that 63% of the 50 homes had lead levels above the Environmental Protection Agency's standard, with average levels nearly 60 times higher than the EPA rule. Experts believe the lead originates from burned lead paint, as over 70% of homes within the fire zone were built before 1979, when its use was common.
"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. She stressed the same applies to asbestos, as there is no safe level of exposure.
Insurance Battles and a Grueling Path to Recovery
Beyond the health risks, residents are locked in grueling battles with insurance companies over coverage for testing and adequate cleanup. Homeowners want state agencies to enforce requirements that insurers return a property to its pre-fire condition.
Zoe Gonzalez Izquierdo, a mother of two young children, said her insurer refuses to pay for a proper cleanup of her Altadena home, which tested positive for dangerous lead levels. "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.
Julie Lawson's family paid about $7,000 out of pocket for soil testing, despite their insurer agreeing to replace their front yard grass. They plan further tests after remediation. Even if their home becomes livable, the losses—of equity, community, and peace of mind—endure. "We have to live in the scar," Lawson said. "We're all still really struggling. This isn't over for us."
The Mental Health Toll of an Unseen Enemy
The constant stress is taking a severe mental health toll. Annie Barbour of the nonprofit United Policyholders, herself a survivor of the 2017 Tubbs Fire, has been helping people navigate insurers who resist paying for contamination testing.
"Many were at first joyful to see their houses still standing," Barbour said. "But they've been in their own special kind of hell ever since."
Residents like the Malones now inspect their belongings one by one, fearing toxins have been absorbed. Their home is filled with boxes and bins of possessions they are painstakingly assessing. Nina cleans constantly, wearing gloves and a respirator, still finding soot and ash.
Their insurance won't pay the $10,000 to retest their home, Billy said, and even if contamination is found, the company will only cover cleanup of federally regulated toxins like lead and asbestos. "I don't know how you fight that," said Nina, who is considering therapy for her anxiety. "How do you find that argument to compel an insurance company to pay for something to make yourself safe?"
As scientists continue to study the long-term health impacts of exposure to massive urban fires, the residents of Altadena, Pacific Palisades, and other scorched communities face a recovery measured not just in years, but in the invisible threats they must now live with every day.
