A federal grand jury subpoena has been served on the Los Angeles Fire Department for firefighters’ text messages and other communications about smoke or hot spots in the area of the Jan. 1 Lachman brushfire, which reignited six days later into the massive Palisades fire, according to an internal department memo.
The Times reported last week that a battalion chief ordered firefighters to pack up their hoses and leave the burn area the day after the Lachman fire, even though they complained that the ground was still smoldering and rocks were hot to the touch. In the memo, the department notified its employees of the subpoena, which it said was issued by the U.S. attorney’s office in Los Angeles.
“The subpoena seeks any and all communications, including text messages, related to reports of fire, smoke, or hotspots received between” 10 p.m. on New Year’s Eve and 10 a.m. on Jan. 7, said the memo, which was dated Tuesday.
A spokesperson with the U.S. attorney’s office declined to confirm that a subpoena was issued and otherwise did not comment. The memo did not include a copy of the subpoena.
The memo said the subpoena was issued in connection with an “ongoing criminal investigation” conducted by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.
It is unclear from the memo whether the subpoena is directly related to the case against Rinderknecht, who has pleaded not guilty.
During the Rinderknecht investigation, ATF agents concluded that the fire smoldered and burned for days underground “within the root structure of dense vegetation,” until heavy winds caused it to spark the Palisades inferno, according to an affidavit attached to the criminal complaint against Rinderknecht.
The Palisades fire, the most destructive in the city’s history, killed 12 people and destroyed thousands of homes, businesses and other structures.
Last week, The Times cited text messages among firefighters in reporting that crews mopping up the Lachman fire had warned the battalion chief that remnants of the blaze were still smoldering.
The battalion chief listed as being on duty the day firefighters were ordered to leave the Lachman fire, Mario Garcia, has not responded to requests for comment.
In one text message, a firefighter who was at the scene on Jan. 2 wrote that the battalion chief had been told it was a “bad idea” to leave because of the visible signs of smoking terrain, which crews feared could start a new fire if left unprotected.
“And the rest is history,” the firefighter wrote in recent weeks.
A second firefighter was told that tree stumps were still hot at the location when the crew packed up and left, according to the texts. And a third firefighter said this month that crew members were upset when told to pack up and leave but that they could not ignore orders, according to the texts. The third firefighter also wrote that he and his colleagues knew immediately that the Palisades fire was a rekindle of the Jan. 1 blaze.
The Fire Department has not answered questions about the firefighter accounts in the text messages but has previously said that officials did everything they could to ensure that the Lachman fire was fully extinguished. The department has not provided dispatch records of all firefighting and mop-up activity before Jan. 7.
After The Times published the story, Mayor Karen Bass directed interim Fire Chief Ronnie Villanueva to launch an investigation into the matter, while critics of her administration have asked for an independent inquiry.
Los Angeles firefighters were hampered by a lack of resources for red flag weather conditions in their initial response to the Palisades fire, an internal after-action review report found.
The long-awaited 70-page report, produced by the Los Angeles Fire Department, was released late Wednesday afternoon on the heels of an announcement by federal prosecutors that they had arrested and charged a man with intentionally setting a fire on Jan. 1 that later reignited and became the Palisades fire.
Federal investigators determined that the Jan. 7 fire was a so-called holdover from the Jan. 1 fire, continuing to smolder and burn underground after firefighters thought they had extinguished it. The investigators said that heavy winds six days later caused the underground fire to surface and spread above ground in what became one of the costliest and most destructive disasters in city history.
In its after-action report, the Fire Department listed almost 100 challenges that firefighters faced during the Palisades fire, including an inability to secure the origin of the fire, an ineffective process for recalling firefighters who were off-duty to come back into work, and fire chiefs with little to no experience handling such a major incident. During the initial attack, the report said, most firefighters worked for more than 36 hours without rest.
The report cited a delay in communicating evacuation orders, which resulted in spontaneous evacuations without structured traffic control, causing people to block routes to the fire, the report said. The initial staging area, which was in the path of the evacuation route and the fire, was consumed by flames within 30 minutes, the report said.
The Palisades fire, which started at 10:30 a.m. Jan. 7, was one of the costliest and most destructive disasters in city history, leveling thousands of homes and killing 12 people.
A Times investigation found that LAFD officials did not pre-deploy any engines to the Palisades ahead of the fire, despite warnings about extreme weather. In preparing for the winds, the department staffed up only five of more than 40 engines available to supplement the regular firefighting force.
Those engines could have been pre-positioned in the Palisades and elsewhere, as had been done in the past during similar weather.
SACRAMENTO — In howling winds and choking smoke during the January fires that devastated Altadena and Pacific Palisades, more than 1,100 incarcerated firefighters cleared brush and dug fire lines, some for wages of less than $30 per day.
Those firefighters could soon see a major raise. On Thursday, California lawmakers unanimously approved a plan to pay incarcerated firefighters the federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour while assigned to an active fire, a raise of more than 700%.
“Nobody who puts their life on the line for other people should earn any less than the federal minimum wage,” said the bill’s author, Assemblymember Isaac Bryan (D-Los Angeles), before the Thursday vote.
Bryan’s legislation, Assembly Bill 247, would take effect immediately if signed by Gov. Gavin Newsom. Newsom’s office said he typically does not comment on pending legislation. But in July, he signed a budget that set aside $10 million for incarcerated firefighter wages.
Working at one of the state’s 35 minimum-security fire camps is a voluntary and coveted job, giving inmates a chance to spend time outside prison walls, help their communities and get paroled more quickly.
Incarcerated firefighters don’t wield hoses, but clear brush and dig containment lines while working on front-line hand crews and do work such as cooking and laundry to keep fire camps running.
Prison fire crews at times make up more than 1 in 4 of the firefighters battling California’s wildfires, and have drawn international praise during major wildfire seasons. After the January fires in Los Angeles, celebrity Kim Kardashian called them “heroes” who deserved a raise.
The state’s 2,000 or so incarcerated firefighters earn $5.80 to $10.24 per day at fire camps, and an extra $1 an hour during active wildfires, according to the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. That means the lowest-paid firefighters earn $29.80 per 24-hour shift and the highest-paid, $34.24.
Higher wages are not only a key way to recognize the life-risking contributions made by incarcerated firefighters, backers said, but could also help inmates build up some savings before they are paroled, or more quickly pay restitution to their victims.
Republican lawmakers who backed the plan emphasized the life-changing nature of finding work with meaning.
“When we talk about anti-recidivism, when we talk about programs that work, this is one of the absolute best,” said Assemblymember Heath Flora (R-Ripon).
Flora said he worked alongside incarcerated and formerly incarcerated firefighters during 15 years as a volunteer firefighter, and said they were “some of the hardest working individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.”
Bryan originally had proposed a $19 hourly wage, similar to the wage earned by entry-level firefighters with the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection. During the summer’s budget negotiations, that wage was trimmed to $7.25.
A lobbyist for the California State Sheriffs’ Assn., which opposed the bill, told lawmakers in July that incarcerated firefighters already are “receiving compensation in different ways.” Prison workers assigned to hand crews have their sentences reduced by two days for each day they serve on an active fire.
State Sen. Kelly Seyarto (R-Murrieta), who co-sponsored the bill, cautioned in July that paying higher wages could lead to hiring fewer incarcerated firefighters overall.
The cost to the state will depend on the number of inmate crews staffed and the severity of the fire season.
From 2020 to 2024, inmate firefighters spent 1,382,117 hours fighting fires for $1 per hour, according to a bill analysis by legislative staff. The state would have paid about $10 million in wages — or about $8.6 million more — had the federal minimum wage been in place over those five fire seasons, analysts said.
Years with more fire activity would be more expensive for the state. In 2020, the largest wildfire season in modern history, the state spent about $2.1 million on inmate firefighter wages at $1 per hour, which would have cost $15 million under the new bill language.
The bill follows years of effort to help improve the working conditions of inmate firefighters.
The number fell off sharply after the California policy known as realignment in 2011, which shifted many people who were convicted of nonserious, nonviolent and nonsexual offenses from California state prisons to county jails.
California bars people with a felony conviction from receiving an emergency medical technician, or EMT, certification for a decade after their release from prison. There is a lifetime ban for those convicted of two or more felonies.
In 2020, Newsom signed a bill allowing formerly incarcerated firefighters who were convicted of nonviolent, nonsexual offenses to appeal a court to expunge their criminal records and waive their parole time.
The Legislature this week also passed AB 218, by Assemblymembers Josh Lowenthal (D-Long Beach) and Sade Elhawary (D-Los Angeles), which would require prison officials to draft rules by 2027 to recommend incarcerated firefighters for resentencing.
A number of other bills dealing with fire issues are still pending in the Legislature in its final week of the year. Those include:
AB 226, which would allow the California FAIR Plan, the state’s home insurer of last resort, to increase its capacity to pay out claims by issuing bonds or seeking a line of credit.
AB 1032, which would require healthcare insurers to cover 12 visits a year with a licensed behavioral health provider, including mental health and substance abuse counselors, to residents affected by wildfires.
Two Senate Republicans have opened yet another investigation into the deadly Palisades fire, adding to a long list of ongoing probes aimed at determining whether local officials prepared sufficiently for the emergency.
The investigation will look at whether emergency preparations were sufficient, including an examination of whether there was enough reservoir water to respond to the deadly wildfire.
Sens. Rick Scott of Florida and Ron Johnson of Wisconsin announced Monday that they were leading the congressional investigation, which they said is necessary to “uncover and expose the truth” about how the state and local governments responded to the major blaze, which broke out amid hurricane-force winds and quickly overwhelmed firefighting resources.
“Families in this community deserve answers and accountability,” Scott and Johnson wrote in a joint statement.
The new probe is the latest in a string of ongoing investigations into the start of the fire and how officials responded. It comes almost nine months since the fire broke out on Jan. 7, killing 12 and largely destroying Pacific Palisades. That same day, the Eaton fire erupted in Altadena, killing 19 people and devastating the foothill community.
The congressional investigation appears to focus only on the Palisades fire, and will look specifically at what water resources were — or weren’t — available, and why.
The Times first reported that the Santa Ynez Reservoir, located in the heart of Pacific Palisades, was empty when the fire broke out, and remained that way as firefighters experienced dry hydrants and water pressure issues. The 117-million-gallon water storage complex had been closed for repairs to its cover for nearly a year, officials said.
After The Times’ reporting on the reservoir, Gov. Gavin Newsom ordered an investigation into the city’s water system and how it may have hampered firefighting efforts.
Times reporting also exposed poor preparation and deployment by the Los Angeles Fire Department, even as city officials were repeatedly warned about life-threatening winds and red flag conditions. Top brass at the agency decided not to deploy roughly 1,000 available firefighters and dozens of water-carrying engines in advance of the Palisades fire.
The announcement of this federal investigation comes a few weeks after Scott — the former governor of hurricane-prone Florida — met with former reality star Spencer Pratt to tour some of the areas destroyed by the Palisades fire. At the time of their meeting, Pratt, who lost a home in the fire, was demanding a congressional investigation — an action that Scott said he would do his “best to make sure it happens.”
Pratt has also sued the city, alleging it failed to maintain an adequate water supply and other infrastructure.
In recent weeks, Scott has sent letters to several agencies seeking answers about how California used federal funds for wildfire management and response. In an August letter to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Scott said it appeared that the state and the city of Los Angeles had not used the agency’s funds “wisely or appropriately.”
The response to the January firestorm, particularly in the Palisades, has become a polarizing topic — and rife with misinformation —among national and local political leaders, from President Trump to developer Rick Caruso, a former mayoral contender against L.A.’s current mayor, Karen Bass. Caruso, who owns Palisades Village mall, became an immediate critic of the city’s response, blasting officials for struggling to meet water demands during the fire fight.
But fire and water experts have repeatedly said that the conditions during the fire were unprecedented, and one that no urban water system could have been properly prepared.
Still, understanding what, if anything, went wrong during the Palisades fire appears to have struck somewhat of a bipartisan note. Gov. Gavin Newsom on Monday said his team will “absolutely welcome” this additional review.
“It complements the thorough investigations already taking place — including by the federal government, the state, and an independent review by the nation’s leading fire experts,” Newsom said in a statement. “From day one, we’ve embraced transparency because Californians deserve nothing less.”
Los Angeles officials last month delayed releasing one of those reports, so as not to interfere with a federal investigation into the cause of the Palisades fire.
The new congressional investigation, which will be led by the Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Committee, will give senators the power to issue subpoenas and seek documents for the committee’s review.
Architect Simon Ha was trying to squeeze an apartment building onto a 6,400-square foot lot in Hollywood.
The city of Los Angeles requires two stairways for such buildings, which limited the configurations Ha could use. After racking his brain, he finally came up with a solution.
“It was like designing a Swiss watch,” he said of the 2023 project.
Now, the L.A. City Council is on the brink of allowing just one stairway for buildings of up to six stories, making it easier and cheaper to build on smaller lots — but raising concerns about escape routes in a fire or earthquake.
Councilmember Nithya Raman, who introduced the single stairway proposal with Councilmember Katy Yaroslavsky, said she wants to speed up development to address the city’s housing crisis and to encourage the construction of apartments big enough for families. And she believes safety needn’t be sacrificed.
“We’re trying to say, ‘How can we build more safely — and build more overall?’” Raman said in an interview.
Los Angeles Councilmember Nithya Raman.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Until recently, New York, Seattle and Honolulu were among the few American cities that allowed single stairways in buildings of up to six stories. Since 2022, amid a nationwide affordable housing crunch, at least 16 cities and states have proposed or enacted single stairway regulations, according to a Pew Charitable Trusts study released in February.
The double stairway rule, in place in California since 1981, makes it harder to build apartments with more than two bedrooms, urban planners and architects said.
Apartments typically have to be laid out along a long hallway, with windows on only one side of each unit, resulting in less light and ventilation, said Stephen Smith, who is executive director of the Center for Building in North America and one of the single stairway’s biggest advocates.
“For small lots in particular, the second stairway can eat up a huge amount of the building’s footprint,” he said.
A single stair layout without a long hallway could mean more room for larger units
Based on design by Simon Ha
Gabrielle LaMarr LeMee LOS ANGELES TIMES
Under state law, L.A. can reduce the number of stairways it requires, as long as it implements other restrictions, such as high-end sprinkler systems. Raman and Yaroslavsky’s proposal for single stairway buildings would limit the number of units per floor to four.
But proponents of double stairways say they are a key safety measure, giving residents two options for fleeing a fire, along with a separate route for firefighters.
Frank Lima, a Los Angeles firefighter and general secretary-treasurer of the International Assn. of Fire Fighters, or IAFF, said the stairways are a life-and-death issue.
“[A single stairway] forces building occupants to go down a stairwell while firefighters go up a stairwell,” Lima said. “That delays fire attack, delays people getting out of a building — when seconds count.”
“When you try to cut corners to save money or make more units, it shouldn’t be at the price of children that die,” Lima said.
The IAFF, which represents firefighters and emergency medical technicians across the U.S. and Canada, has strongly opposed single stairway proposals — “I’d rather call it ‘only one way out,’” Lima said.
On Aug. 20, the City Council voted 13 to 1 to request that city staffers draft a single stairway ordinance.
In a memo to the council, City Planning Director Vincent Bertoni wrote that the single stairway proposal could make a “substantial contribution” to the city’s housing supply.
“The result is that family-sized units — a much needed segment of Los Angeles’ housing stock — are not being produced at the scale required to meet existing and projected needs,” he wrote of the double stairway requirement.
About 14% of rental units in the city are three or more bedrooms, according to the Planning Department.
Zachary Pitts, the Los Angeles director of YIMBY Action, which advocates for more affordable housing, said he had a hard time finding a three-bedroom apartment in downtown Los Angeles.
There were plenty of studios, one-bedrooms and two-bedrooms, but places big enough for his family of four cost a small fortune.
“We ended up buying a single-family home, since a mortgage was lower than the prices we were being quoted,” Pitts said.
Ha, the architect, said that ditching the double stairway requirement could enable developers to produce “East Coast-style” townhouses like those in New York — a contrast to the “podium-style” buildings now going up in L.A., which generally take up a half or whole block.
Ha has designed buildings from San Francisco to San Diego, though most of his work is in Los Angeles, where he is the architect of many micro-apartment complexes, which contain only studios.
Small parcels of 7,500 square feet or less, where a single stairway would make apartments easier to build, often sit empty for long periods, creating “missing teeth” in the city’s layout, Ha said.
Simon Ha stands inside one of two stairways at the Hollywood Premiere Apartments. Architects such as Ha are in support of single stairway reform that would make it easier and cheaper to develop on small lots.
(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
The Los Angeles Fire Department declined to comment on the single stairway proposal, saying it is under review by the city fire marshal. The councilmembers behind the proposal say the department has been consulted every step of the way.
Raman said she sees “no reduction in fire safety.”
“New fire safety standards in our building code have made it so new buildings are much safer overall,” she said.
Architect Simon Ha shows the two stairways at the Hollywood Premiere Apartments.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
The Pew Charitable Trusts study, co-written and researched by Smith of the Center for Building in North America, found that in New York, the rate of fire deaths in single stairway buildings was the same as in other residential buildings.
“This [double stairway] code originates from when people were cooking with open flames, when there were no sprinklers or fire alarms,” Smith said.
City Councilmember Adrin Nazarian voted yes on the Aug. 20 motion to draft a single stairway ordinance, though he had previously expressed reservations about earthquake safety.
Seattle has single stairways but “less than one-tenth the number of seismic activity we have in our region,” he said during a council meeting.
Councilmember Traci Park was the lone no vote.
“Generally in life, when you have more exits and evacuation routes, things are generally more safe,” she said.
The former Los Angeles fire chief filed a legal claim against the city Wednesday, alleging that Mayor Karen Bass “orchestrated a campaign of misinformation, defamation, and retaliation” to protect her political image after the most destructive wildfire in city history.
Kristin Crowley and her lawyers accuse Bass of ousting her, and repeatedly defaming Crowley as Bass sought to shift blame for the way the city handled the catastrophic Palisades Fire “while concealing the extent to which she undermined public safety” with cuts to the fire department’s budget.
The legal claim alleges that Bass scapegoated Crowley amid mounting criticism of the mayor’s decision to attend a ceremony in Ghana on Jan. 7, when the fire erupted. Bass left Los Angeles despite her knowing of the potential severe winds and deadly fire danger, the claim alleges.
“As the Fire Chief, for nearly three years, I advocated for the proper funding, staffing and infrastructure upgrades to better support and protect our Firefighters, and by extension, our communities,” Crowley said in a statement to The Times. “The lies, deceit, exaggerations and misrepresentations need to be addressed with the only thing that can refute them — the true facts.”
Bass and the city had yet to respond to a request for comment Wednesday.
Crowley’s lawyers say Bass “initially praised the department’s preparedness” and even portrayed the response positively. “But as criticism mounted over her absence, Bass reversed course,” the legal claim said. “She sought to shift blame to Crowley, falsely stating that Bass was not aware of the nationally anticipated weather event, that Crowley sent 1,000 firefighters home who could have fought the blaze, and misrepresenting the department’s budget…”
Bass removed Crowley on Feb. 21, six weeks after the firestorm that consumed Pacific Palisades, killing 12 people and destroying nearly 7,000 homes.
The mayor said she was demoting Crowley for failing to inform her about the dangerous conditions or to activate hundreds of firefighters ahead of the blaze. She also said Crowley rebuffed a request to prepare a report on the fires — a critical part of ongoing investigations into the cause of the fire and the city’s response.
According to her lawyers, Crowley had “repeatedly warned of the LAFD’s worsening resource and staffing crisis,” prior to the fire, and warned that “aging infrastructure, surging emergency calls, and shrinking staff left the city at risk.”
In the 23-page claim, Crowley said Bass cut the department’s operating budget by nearly $18 million that year and “eliminated positions critical to maintaining fire engines, trucks, and ambulances.”
After Crowley complained publicly that the budget cuts had “weakened the department’s readiness, Bass retaliated,” the lawyers allege. On Jan 10, after Crowley told FOX LA, “we are screaming to be properly funded,” Bass called her to the mayor’s office.
“I don’t know why you had to do that; normally we are on the same page, and I don’t know why you had to say stuff to the media,” the lawyers say Bass told the chief, but said she wasn’t fired.
The next day, retired Chief Deputy Ronnie Villanueva began working at the Emergency Operations Center, donning a Mayor’s office badge. Then Feb. 3, 2025, two weeks before Chief Crowley was removed from her position, Villanueva wrote a Report to the Board of Fire Commissioners identifying himself as Interim Fire Chief” — a position he now holds.
Crowley was eventually ousted and put on leave. Her lawyers allege Bass’s public accusation at the time that Crowley refused to participate in an after action report of the Palisades fire after being asked to by the Fire Commission President Genethia Hayes, a Bass appointee — was blatantly false and she was never asked.
A legal claim is a precursor to a civil lawsuit, and is required by California law when suing a government entity. In her claim, Crowley alleges Bass and her subordinates have conducted a “public smear campaign aimed at discrediting Crowley’s character and decades of service,” following her dismissal.
Crowley’s attorneys, Genie Harrison and Mia Munro, allege that Bass and others in her administration defamed Crowley, retaliated against her in violation of California’s labor code and violated Crowley’s First Amendment rights. Crowley is seeking unspecified damages above $25,000.
Harrison, who has represented numerous victims of Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein, said Crowley’s claim “presents her extensive advocacy efforts to obtain the funding and resources the LAFD needed to fulfill its public safety mission. It also shows Mayor Bass’ repeated refusals to provide those resources.”
But Crowley and her lawyers say in the legal claim the “LAFD did not have sufficient operating emergency vehicles to safely and effectively pre-deploy 1,000 (or anywhere near 1,000) additional firefighters on January 7.” In simple terms, the department did not have the money or personnel “to repair and maintain emergency fire engines, fire trucks, and ambulances,” the claim alleges.
The Times investigation found the department had more than 40 engines available to battle wildfires, but fire officials staffed only five of them.
Crowley’s lawyers dispute that in the claim. They say “the LAFD staffed all its front-line fire engines (including all the 40 engines that Bass later falsely stated sat “idle.”
Firefighters on Sunday were gaining control over the massive Madre fire in San Luis Obispo County, which at more than 80,000 acres remains the largest in California so far this year.
Containment on the fire had reached 30% — up from 10% Saturday — buoyed by favorable weather and a flood of personnel, said Los Padres National Forest spokesperson Andrew Madsen. The fire grew slightly on Sunday to just over 80,000 acres in the rural area.
“We’ve got the resources we need,” Madsen said, “and the firefighters on the ground are making some good progress.”
The fire started around 1 p.m. Wednesday east of Santa Maria near the town of New Cayuma. More than 200 people were subject to mandatory evacuation orders, and roughly 50 structures were under threat as of Sunday afternoon. One building has burned. The cause of the fire, which has been fueled by heat and wind, is under investigation. Nearly 1,400 firefighting personnel were on scene.
The bulk of the fire is threatening the Carrizo Plain National Monument, which is home to several endangered and threatened wildlife and plant species. Los Padres National Forest, Cal Fire San Luis Obispo and the Bureau of Land Management share jurisdiction over the fire.
All BLM lands in the national monument are closed to public access until further notice for safety reasons.
Weather conditions were expected to hold steady through Monday before a midweek heat wave across Southern California could make the situation more challenging. Madsen said firefighters were hoping for continued progress over the next couple days.
Times staff writers Colleen Shalby and Caroline Petrow-Cohen contributed to this report.
HOPLAND, Calif. — On a sun-kissed hillside in remote Northern California, I watched in awe as a crackling fire I’d helped ignite engulfed a hillside covered in tall, golden grass. Then the wind shifted slightly, and the dense gray smoke that had been billowing harmlessly up the slope turned and engulfed me.
Within seconds, I was blind and coughing. The most intense heat I’d ever felt seemed like it would sear the only exposed skin on my body: my face. As the flames inched closer, to within a few feet, I backed up until I was trapped against a tall fence with nowhere left to go.
Alone in that situation, I would have panicked. But I was with Len Nielson, chief of prescribed burns for the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, who stayed as cool as the other side of the pillow.
Like a pilot calmly instructing passengers to fasten their seat belts, Nielson suggested I wrap the fire-resistant “shroud” hanging from my bright yellow helmet around my face. Then he told me to take a few steps to the left.
And, just like that, we were out of the choking smoke and into the gentle morning sunlight. The temperature seemed to have dropped a few hundred degrees.
“It became uncomfortable, but it was tolerable, right?” Nielson asked with a reassuring grin. “Prescribed fires are a lot about trust.”
Dripping gasoline onto dry grass and deliberately setting it ablaze in the California countryside felt wildly reckless, especially for someone whose job involves interviewing survivors of the state’s all too frequent, catastrophic wildfires. But “good fire,” as Nielson called it, is essential for reducing the fuel available for bad fire, the kind that makes the headlines. The principle is as ancient as it is simple.
Before European settlers arrived in California and insisted on suppressing fire at every turn, the landscape burned regularly. Sometimes lightning ignited the flames; sometimes it was Indigenous people using fire as an obvious, and remarkably effective, tool to clear unwanted vegetation from their fields. Whatever the cause, it was common for much of the land in California to burn about once a decade.
“So it was relatively calm,” Nielson said, as the flames we’d set danced and swirled just a few feet behind him. “There wasn’t this big fuel load, so there wasn’t a chance of it becoming really intense.”
With that in mind, the state set an ambitious goal in the early 2020s to deliberately burn at least 400,000 acres of wilderness each year. The majority of that would have to be managed by the federal government, since agencies including the U.S. Forest Service, the Bureau of Land Management and the National Park Service own nearly half of the state’s total land. And they own more than half of the state’s forests.
Cal Fire crew members set a prescribed burn near Hopland in Mendocino County.
(Josh Edelson / For The Times)
But California officials worry their ambitious goals are likely to be thwarted by deep cuts to those federal agencies by Elon Musk’s budget-whacking White House advisory team, dubbed the Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE. In recent months, the Forest Service has lost about 10% of its workforce to mass layoffs and firings. While firefighters were exempt from the DOGE-ordered staffing cuts, employees who handle the logistics and clear the myriad regulatory hurdles to secure permission for prescribed burns were not.
“To me, it’s an objective fact that these cuts mean California will be less safe from wildfire,” said Wade Crowfoot, California’s secretary of natural resources. He recalled how President Trump, in his first term, erroneously blamed the state’s wildfires on state officials who, Trump said, had failed to adequately “rake” the forests.
“Fifty-seven percent of our forests are owned and managed by the federal government,” Crowfoot said. If anybody failed, it was the president, he argued.
Larry Moore, a spokesman for the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which oversees the Forest Service, said the job cuts won’t affect the agency’s fire prevention efforts.
The Forest Service “continues to ensure it has the strongest and most prepared wildland firefighting force in the world,” Moore wrote in an email. The agency’s leaders are “committed to preserving essential safety positions and will ensure that critical services remain uninterrupted.”
Cal Fire crew members plot out the direction and scope of a prescribed burn in Mendocino County.
(Josh Edelson / For The Times)
Nevertheless, last month, Gov. Gavin Newsom added $72 million to the state’s forest management budget to bridge some of the gap expected to be left by federal agencies. But wildfire experts say that’s just a drop in the bucket. Doing prescribed burns safely takes a lot of boots on the ground and behind-the-scenes cajoling to make sure local residents, and regulators, are on board.
Because people get pretty testy when you accidentally smoke out an elementary school or old folks home, burn plans have to clear substantial hurdles presented by the California Environmental Quality Act and air quality regulators.
It took three years to get all the required permissions for the 50-acre Hopland burn in Mendocino County, where vineyard owners worried their world-class grapes might get a little too “smoky” for most wine lovers. When the big day finally arrived in early June, more than 60 firefighters showed up with multiple fire engines, at least one bulldozer and a firefighting helicopter on standby in case anything went wrong.
But this was no school project. A fire that began in the surrounding hills a couple of years ago threatened to trap people in the center, so the area being burned was along the only two roads that could be used to escape.
“We’re trying to create a buffer to get out, if we need to,” said John Bailey, the center’s director. “But we’re also trying to create a buffer to prevent wildfire from coming into the center.”
Smoke emanates from a prescribed burn in Mendocino County.(Josh Edelson / For The Times)
As the firefighters pulled on their protective yellow jackets and pants, and filled their drip torches with a mixture of diesel and gasoline, Nielson bent down and grabbed a fistful of the yellow grass. Running it through his fingers, he showed it to his deputies and they all shook their heads in disappointment — too moist.
Thick marine-layer clouds filled the sky at 7 a.m, keeping the relative humidity too high for a good scorching. In many years of covering wildfires, it was the first time I had seen firefighters looking bored and disappointed because nothing would burn.
By 8:45 a.m., the clouds cleared, the sun came out, and the grass in Nielson’s fist began to crinkle and snap. It was time to go to work.
The fire that would fill the sky and drift north that afternoon, blanketing the town of Ukiah with the familiar orange haze of fire season, began with a single firefighter walking along the edge of a cleared dirt path. As he moved, he made little dots of flame with his drip torch, drawing a line like a kid working the edges of a picture in a coloring book.
Additional firefighters worked the other edges of the field until it was encircled by strips of burned black grass. That way, no matter which direction the fire went when they set the center of the field alight, the flames would not — in most circumstances — escape the relatively small test patch.
On the uphill edge of the patch, along the top of a ridge, firefighters in full protective gear leaned against a wooden fence with their backs to the smoke and flames climbing the hill behind them. They’d all done this before, and they trusted those black strips of pre-burned grass to stop the fire before it got to them.
Their job was to keep their eyes on the downward slope on the other side of the ridge, which wasn’t supposed to burn. If they saw any embers drift past them into the “green” zone, they would immediately move to extinguish those flames.
Nielson and I were standing along the fence, too. In addition to the circle of pre-burned grass protecting us, we were on a dirt path about four feet wide. For someone with experience, that was an enormous buffer. I was the only one who even flinched when the smoke and flames came our way.
Afterward, when I confessed how panicked I had felt, Nielson said it happens to a lot of people the first time they are engulfed in smoke. It’s particularly dangerous in grass fires, because they move so fast. People can get completely disoriented, run the wrong way and “get cooked,” he said.
Grass fires are particularly dangerous, because they move so fast, says Cal Fire Staff Chief Len Nielson. People can get disoriented in the smoke, run the wrong way and “get cooked.”
(Josh Edelson / For The Times)
But that test patch was just the warmup act. Nielson and his crew were checking to make sure the fire would behave the way they expected — pushed in the right direction by the gentle breeze and following the slope uphill.
“If you’re wondering where fire will go and how fast it will move, think of water,” he said. Water barely moves on flat ground, but it picks up speed when it goes downhill. If it gets into a steep section, where the walls close in like a funnel, it becomes a waterfall.
“Fire does the same thing, but it’s a gas, so it goes the opposite direction,” Nielson said.
With that and a few other pointers — we watched as three guys drew a line of fire around the base of a big, beautiful oak tree in the middle of the hillside to shield it from what was about to happen — Nielson led me to the bottom of the hill and handed me a drip torch.
Once everybody was in position, and all of the safety measures had been put in place, he wanted me to help set the “head fire,” a 6-foot wall of flame that would roar up the hill and consume dozens of acres in a matter of minutes.
“It’s gonna get a little warm right here,” Nielson said, “but it’s gonna get warm for only a second.”
As I leaned in with the torch and set the grass ablaze, the heat was overwhelming. While everyone else working the fire seemed nonchalant, I was tentative and terrified. My right hand stretched forward to make the dots and dashes where Nielson instructed, but my butt was sticking as far back into the road as it could get.
I asked Nielson how hot he thought the flames in front of us were. “I used to know that,” he said with a shrug. “I want to say it’s probably between 800 and 1,200 degrees.”
With the hillside still burning, I peeled off all of the protective gear, hopped in a car and followed the smoke north along the 101 Freeway. By lunchtime, Ukiah, a town of 16,000 that bills itself as the gateway to the redwoods, was shrouded in haze.
Everybody smelled the smoke, but prescribed burns are becoming so common in the region, nobody seemed alarmed.
“Do it!” said Judy Hyler, as she and two friends walked out of Stan’s Maple Cafe. A veteran of the rampant destruction of wildfires from years past, she didn’t hesitate when asked how she felt about the effort. “I would rather it be prescribed, controlled and managed than what we’ve seen before.”
Wildfire Days: A Woman, a Hotshot Crew, and the Burning American West
By Kelly Ramsey Scribner: 338 pages, $30 If you buy books linked on our site, The Times may earn a commission from Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookstores.
Fire changes whatever it encounters. Burns it, melts it, sometimes makes it stronger. Once fire tears through a place, nothing is left the same. Kelly Ramsey wasn’t thinking of this when she joined the U.S. Forest Service firefighting crew known as the Rowdy River Hotshots — she just thought fighting fires would be a great job.
But fire changed her too.
In her memoir, “Wildfire Days: A Woman, a Hotshot Crew, and the Burning American West,” Ramsey takes us through two years of fighting wilderness fires in the mountains of Northern California. She wrote the book before January’s deadly Altadena and Pacific Palisades fires, and what she encountered in the summers of 2020 and 2021 was mostly forests burning, not city neighborhoods. But at the time, the fires she and her fellow crewmen fought (and they were all men that first year) were the hottest, fastest, biggest fires California had ever experienced.
“My first real year in fire had been a doozy, not just for me but my beloved California: 4.2 million acres burned,” she writes, in the “worst season the state had endured in over a hundred years.” That included the state’s first gigafire — more than 1 million acres burned in Northern California.
The job proved to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, but something about fire compelled her. “At the sight of a smoke column, most people feel a healthy hitch in their breath and want to run the other way,” she writes. “But all I wanted to do was run toward the fire.”
Ramsey’s memoir covers a lot of ground, skillfully. She learns that being in good shape isn’t enough — she has to be in incredible shape. She learns how to work with a group of men who are younger, stronger and more experienced than she is, and she figures out how to find that line between never complaining and standing up for herself in the face of inappropriate behavior.
She also writes about the changes in her own life during that time: coming to terms with her alcoholic, homeless father; pondering her lousy record for romantic relationships; searching for an independence and peace she had never known.
“It wasn’t fire that was hard; it was ordinary life,” she concludes.
Sometimes her struggles with ordinary life threaten to take over the narrative, but while they humanize her, they are not the most interesting part of this book. What resonates instead is fire and all that it entails — the burning forest and the hard, mind-numbing work of the Hotshots. They work 14 days on, two days off, all summer and fall, sometimes 24-hour shifts when things are bad. They sleep rough, dig ditches, build firebreaks, set controlled burns, take down dead trees and, in between, experience moments of terrifying danger.
Readers of John Vaillant’s harrowing 2023 book “Fire Weather” — an account of the destruction of the Canadian forest town of Fort McMurray — might consider Ramsey’s book a companion to the earlier book. “Wildfire Days” is not as sweeping or scientific; it’s more personal and entertaining. It’s the other side of the story, the story of the people who fight the blaze.
Ramsey’s gender is an important part of this book; as a woman, she faces obstacles men do not. It’s harder to find a discreet place to relieve herself; she must deal with monthly periods; and, at first, she is the weakest and slowest of the Hotshots. “Thought you trained this winter,” one of the guys tells her after an arduous training hike leaves her gasping for breath. “I did,” she said.
“Thinking you shoulda trained a little harder, huh,” he said.
But over time she grows stronger, more capable, and more accepted. In the second year, when another woman joins the crew, Ramsey is torn between finally being “one of the guys” and supporting, in solidarity, a woman — but a woman whose work is substandard and whose attitude is whiny.
“Was I only interested in ‘diversity’ on the crew if it looked like me?” she asks herself. “Had I clawed out a place for myself, only to pull up the ladder behind me?”
But competence is crucial in this dangerous job, and substandard work can mean deadly accidents.
For centuries, natural wildfires burned dead trees and undergrowth in California, keeping huge fires in check. White settlers threw things out of whack.
“The Indigenous people of California were (and still are) expert fire keepers,” Ramsey writes. “Native burning mimicked and augmented natural fire, keeping the land park like and open.”
But in the 20th century, humans suppressed fires and forests became overgrown. “Cut to today,” she writes. “Dense forests are primed to burn hotter and faster than ever before.”
Ramsey’s descriptions of the work and the fires are the strongest parts of the book.
“We could hear the howl — like the roar of a thousand lions, like a fleet of jet engines passing overhead — the sound of fire devouring everything,“ Ramsey writes.
Later, she drives through a part of the forest that burned the year before to see “mile upon mile of carbonized trees and denuded earth, a now-familiar scene of extinguished life.”
But she also notes that the burned areas are already beginning to green up. “New life tended to spring from bitterest ash,” she writes.
“The forest wouldn’t grow back the same, but it wouldn’t stop growing,” she observes earlier.
There is a metaphor here. Ramsey’s memoir is a moving, sometimes funny story about destruction, change and rebirth, told by a woman tempered by fire.
Hertzel’s second memoir, “Ghosts of Fourth Street,” will be published in 2026. She teaches in the MFA in Narrative Nonfiction program at the University of Georgia and lives in Minnesota.
When Michele Kaemmerer showed up at firehouses in the 1990s, she sometimes encountered firefighters who didn’t want to work with her and would ask to go home sick.
Los Angeles fire officials supported Kaemmerer, the city’s first transgender fire captain, by denying the requests.
If the slights hurt her, she didn’t let it show.
“She really let things roll off her back pretty well. Some of the stuff was really hurtful, but she always had a good attitude,” said Janis Walworth, Kaemmerer’s widow. “She never took that out on anybody else. She was never bitter or angry.”
Kaemmerer, an early leader for transgender and women’s rights at a department not known for its warm welcome to women and minorities, died May 21 at age 80 of heart disease at her home in Bellingham, Wash. She is survived by Walworth and two children.
Michele Kaemmerer wears a shirt to show pride in her trans and lesbian identity in an undated photo.
(Courtesy of Janis Walworth)
A Buddhist, a Democrat, a feminist and a lesbian transgender woman, Kaemmerer busted stereotypes of what a firefighter was. She joined the LAFD in 1969 — long before she transitioned in 1991 — and became a captain 10 years later.
“Being in a fire, inside of a building on fire, at a brush fire … it’s adrenaline-producing and it’s great,” Kaemmerer said in a 1999 episode of the PBS show “In The Life,” which documented issues facing the LGBTQ+ community. The episode featured Kaemmerer when she was captain of Engine 63 in Marina del Rey.
“The men and women here feel very stressed out having a gay and lesbian captain,” Savitri Carlson, a paramedic at the firehouse, said in the episode. “You have to realize, this is not just a job. We live, sleep, shower, eat together, change together.”
But Kaemmerer brushed off the snubs.
“They’re forced to live with a lesbian, yes,” she said, laughing as she prepared a meal at the firehouse. “And it doesn’t rub off.”
Those close to her said that Kaemmerer, who retired in 2003, was able to deal with the scrutiny and snide remarks because she was an optimist who saw the best in people.
“She really didn’t dwell on that stuff,” said Brenda Berkman, one of the first women in the New York City Fire Department, who met Kaemmerer in the 1990s through their work for Women in the Fire Service, now known as Women in Fire, which supports female firefighters across the world.
The suspicion sometimes came from other women. When Kaemmerer joined Women in the Fire Service, some members didn’t want her to go with them on a days-long bike trip.
Some argued that Kaemmerer was “not a real woman,” wondering what bathroom she would use and where she would sleep.
“She made clear she would have her own tent,” Berkman recalled. “I said to my group, ‘We can’t be discriminating against Michele — not after all we’ve fought for to be recognized and treated equally in the fire service. She has to be allowed to come.’”
Kaemmerer joined the trip.
Michele Kaemmerer fights a brush fire in an undated photo.
(Courtesy of Janis Walworth)
Born in 1945, Kaemmerer knew from an early age that she identified as a woman but hid it out of fear of being beaten or shamed. She cross-dressed secretly and followed a traditional life path, marrying her high school sweetheart (whom she later divorced), joining the Navy and having two children.
“I was very proud of her [when she came out],” said Kaemmerer’s daughter, who asked not to be identified for privacy reasons. “It takes incredible courage to do what she did, especially in a particularly macho, male-driven career.”
When she came out as transgender, Kaemmerer was captain of a small team at the LAFD, with three men working under her.
“It was very difficult for them,” she said in the PBS interview.
Kaemmerer focused on her work. During the 1992 L.A. riots, her fire truck was shot at as she responded to fires, Berkman said.
In the PBS interview, Kaemmerer said that some firefighters who knew her before she transitioned still refused to work with her.
Some women who shared a locker room with her worried that she might make a sexual advance. Most firefighters sleep in the same room, but Kaemmerer sometimes didn’t, so others would feel comfortable.
“Sometimes I will get my bedding and I will put it on the floor in the workout room or the weight room and sleep in there,” she said in the PBS interview.
As she was talking to PBS about her experience as a transgender woman in the fire department, the bell sounded.
“That’s an alarm coming in,” she said, standing up and walking out of the interview.
To Los Angeles City Council members searching desperately for cuts amid a budget crisis, the Fire Department’s emergency incident technicians are “drivers” whose main role is chauffeuring battalion chiefs to emergencies.
But LAFD officials say the position is much more than that. Emergency incident technicians are firefighters who play a key role in coordinating the response to fires, and losing them would put lives at risk, according to LAFD interim Chief Ronnie Villanueva.
“This is going to come back and bite us. This is not a matter of them just being a driver. It is not a driver. You have to just take that out of your minds of transporting someone somewhere,” Villanueva said, addressing the City Council’s budget committee at a hearing on Thursday.
Five months after the Palisades fire destroyed thousands of homes and prompted questions about whether the Fire Department was equipped to fight such a massive blaze, the budget committee moved forward with a recommendation to cut the emergency incident technician positions.
Of the 42 positions, 27 are currently filled. Those firefighters would not lose their jobs but would be reassigned, saving the city more than $7 million in the next fiscal year and about $10 million every year after that, according to City Administrative Officer Matt Szabo.
The city is facing a nearly $1-billion budget shortfall largely due to rising personnel costs, soaring legal payouts and a slowdown in the local economy. Mayor Karen Bass’ 2025-26 budget proposal, which suggested laying off more than 1,600 city employees, did not include reassigning the emergency incident technicians.
The budget committee, which stressed that the overall Fire Department budget is increasing, also recommended nixing Bass’ plan for creating a new unit within the department that would have added 67 employees to address issues stemming from the homelessness crisis.
At Thursday’s budget hearing, Councilmember Tim McOsker, who has two children who are firefighters, argued for cutting the emergency incident technician position, calling it “basically an aide.”
When Villanueva asked McOsker to put a cost on a firefighter’s life, McOsker said, “Invaluable.”
“I can say the same thing about very many of the 1,300 positions we’re cutting, because we’re also going to not be doing sidewalks, streets, curbs, gutters, tree trimming, changing out lights, making our communities safe,” McOsker added. “The reality is we have to balance a budget.”
The budget committee has sent its initial recommendations to Chief Legislative Analyst Sharon Tso, the City Council’s top policy advisor, who on Friday will present the committee with a full menu of strategies for cutting costs while preserving as many services as possible. The committee is then expected to finalize its recommendations and send the proposed budget to the full council, which must approve a final budget by the end of the month.
On the way to a scene, a “command team” consisting of a chief and an emergency incident technician “might be responsible to provide direction to the rescue of a trapped firefighter or civilians, firefighter tracking, and handle the risk management of a rapidly escalating incident,” Capt. Erik Scott, an LAFD spokesperson, said in a statement.
“The more complex the incident, the greater the need for Emergency Incident Technicians to facilitate emergency incident mitigation,” Scott added, with the types of incidents including “structure fires, brush fires, multi-casualty incidents, earthquakes, train collisions, building collapses, active shooter, airport and port emergencies etc.”
Gregg Avery, who retired last year as a battalion chief after 37 years with the LAFD, said that during his career, emergency incident technicians were called aides, then staff assistants. But Avery thought of them more as partners. The four EITs who worked for him often helped him with strategic decisions, and he encouraged them to question his decisions and offer advice.
“The EIT happens to drive the car. But to call them a driver is a bit demeaning and a bit minimizing,” he said.
While an EIT drives a battalion chief to a fire or other emergency, both work the radios to develop strategies for tackling the situation, according to Avery and a video produced by the LAFD. They communicate with fire commanders, firefighters on the scene, police officers and agencies such as the Department of Water and Power and the U.S. Forest Service.
At the scene, they work with the incident commander to keep track of firefighters and other personnel — a crucial role in chaotic situations when forgetting a single firefighter’s location could be fatal, both Villanueva and Avery said.
But at the Thursday budget hearing, Villanueva struggled to articulate what EITs do when they aren’t responding to scenes.
“They visit fire stations and they deliver mail. They talk about the current events. If there’s any questions they need to be asked … the EIT will assist with those. They do staffing,” Villanueva said.
According to Avery, EITs act as liaisons between firefighters and battalion chiefs. Since they are firefighters themselves and members of the labor union, they can relate to the rank-and-file, Avery said.
The EIT positions were cut once before — in 2010, during another major budget crunch in the Great Recession. Since then, the department has been adding them back.
Avery remembers working without an EIT after the cuts.
“Emergency operations were profoundly different and not as good,” he said.
