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SYSTEM FAILURE - On the day the wind came, his wife was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer.
Their canyon home in Little Santa Anita—tucked above Mt. Wilson Creek in Sierra Madre—faces east, straight into the teeth of the Eaton Fire’s fallout.
The flames didn’t reach their house. That would’ve made more sense. Instead, it detonated around them—131-mile-per-hour gusts driving smoke, ash, and airborne metals from thousands of burning structures straight into their canyon. Through vents. Through walls. Through the lungs.
No fire crews came. No warnings. Just wind and flame. And when the embers returned the next night, he stood alone in the dark with a pressure washer—fighting for his home while the world pretended nothing was happening.
They survived. But survival wasn’t living. Within days, the house was making them sick. The smell never left. The walls whispered with poison. Even after a full pack-out, the home remained toxic. The air hung thick with something that couldn't be scrubbed away.
So, he did what the system never did: he got the place tested. The results were staggering. Lead dust levels 60 times above legal limits. Zinc and copper off the charts. Chromium, nickel, vanadium, antimony—all embedded in the walls of a house that didn't burn. A top industrial hygienist called it one of the worst residential results he’d ever seen.
And Allstate? They said he was making it up.
They claimed he refused testing, testing they never scheduled. They accused him of misrepresenting the damage while his wife endured radiation and recovery in a rotating cast of hotels with no elevators, no ADA rooms, no nearby pharmacies.
Then, mid-claim, Allstate canceled the policy. Just pulled it. Six full days without insurance coverage, in a house that was toxic, with no warning. He had to fight tooth and nail to get it reinstated. Imagine if he hadn’t had the time, the knowledge, or the sheer will to go up against them.
Meanwhile, their two Australian Shepherds collapsed with infectious pneumonia. The vet said the cause was environmental. Toxic air. Nearly $50,000 to keep them alive. And still, the home wasn’t safe.
That’s when he hired a public adjuster. Turns out, this wasn’t a one-off. He found dozens of families just like his. Families insured by State Farm, Allstate, and others—all stuck in hotel limbo, all dropped mid-claim, all betrayed when they needed help most.
State Farm made headlines this year when it announced it would no longer offer new homeowner policies in California. Too much climate risk, they said. What didn’t make headlines? The quiet cancellations. The toxic homes. The families like his—unhoused in their own houses.
And where was Ricardo Lara, the California Insurance Commissioner? Nowhere helpful. The same guy who once took money from insurance executives is now slow-walking enforcement while Californians breathe in lead. While they fight off mold. While they fight for their lives.
FEMA? A joke. They showed up for two weeks, barked at residents for asking for help, then disappeared. Some neighbors got the promised $700. Others didn’t. When they called back, they were met with silence. Or hang-ups.
When he brought the test results to LA County, they refused to test the canyon. Too inconvenient, they said. Better to test the business district where nothing burned and everyone can smile at the clean numbers.
He hasn’t worked since January. He runs a ranching magazine, but he’s missed major interviews in Montana, Wyoming. He can’t leave his wife. Can’t leave the dogs. Can’t invite anyone in. Can’t cook. Can’t plan.
This isn’t a fire story. It’s what happens after the fire, when the system becomes the smoke. When corporations design delay and denial into the recovery process. When elected officials hide behind language. When accountability evaporates into bureaucratic fog.
I don’t know this man personally. But I read the letter that had the reports. I’ve reviewed the metals tests. I’ve seen the denials, the bills. I’ve listened.
And I’m telling you: if this is how we treat a man who fought a wildfire with a pressure washer, who stood by his wife through cancer, who cared enough to document every detail—
Then California isn’t just burning. It’s rotting.
And the insurance industry is collecting a premium on the silence.
Your Move
Don’t let this story die in silence. Share it with #ToxicHomesCA. Tag @Allstate, @StateFarm, and @RicardoLara. Call California’s Department of Insurance at 800-927-4357 if your claim’s been stalled. Check your policy—smoke damage clauses are often garbage. Or just raise your voice. Because if we don’t fight, the system will keep burning us all.
(Eric Preven is a Studio City-based TV writer-producer, award-winning journalist, and longtime community activist who won two landmark open government cases in California.)
