Flame

The Los Angeles Police Department has released a report that identifies several shortcomings in its response to the devastating Palisades fire, including communication breakdowns, inconsistent record-keeping and poor coordination at times with other agencies — most notably the city’s Fire Department.

The after-action report called the January blaze a “once in a lifetime cataclysmic event” and praised the heroic actions of many officers, but said the LAPD’s missteps presented a “valuable learning opportunity” with more climate-related disasters likely looming in the future.

LAPD leaders released the 92-page report and presented the findings to the Police Commission at the civilian oversight panel’s public meeting Tuesday.

The report found that while the Fire Department was the lead agency, coordination with the LAPD was “poor” on Jan. 7, the first day of the fire. Though personnel from both agencies were working out of the same command post, they failed to “collectively establish a unified command structure or identify shared objectives, missions, or strategies,” the report said.

Uncertainty about who was in charge was another persistent issue, with more confusion sown by National Guard troops that were deployed to the area. Department leaders were given no clear guidelines on what the guard’s role would be when they arrived, the report said.

The mix-ups were the result of responding to a wildfire of unprecedented scale, officials said. At times the flames were advancing at 300 yards a minute, LAPD assistant chief Michael Rimkunas told the commission.

“Hopefully we don’t have to experience another natural disaster, but you never know,” Rimkunas said, adding that the endeavor was “one of the largest and most complex traffic control operations in its history.”

Between Jan. 11 and Jan. 16, when the LAPD’s operation was at its peak, more than 700 officers a day were assigned to the fire, the report said.

The report found that officials failed to maintain a chronological log about the comings and goings of LAPD personnel at the fire zone.

“While it is understandable that the life-threatening situation at hand took precedence over the completion of administrative documentation,” the report said, “confusion at the command post about how many officers were in the field “resulted in diminished situational awareness.”

After the fire first erupted, the department received more than 160 calls for assistance, many of them for elderly or disabled residents who were stuck in their homes — though the report noted that the disruption of cell service contributed to widespread confusion.

The communication challenges continued throughout the day, the report found.

Encroaching flames forced authorities to move their command post several times. An initial staging area, which was in the path of the evacuation route and the fire, was consumed within 30 minutes, authorities said.

But because of communication breakdowns caused by downed radio and cellphone towers, dispatchers sometimes had trouble reaching officers in the field and police were forced to “hand deliver” important paper documents from a command post to its staging area on Zuma Beach, about 20 miles away.

Several commissioners asked about reports of journalists being turned away from fire zones in the weeks that followed the fire’s outbreak.

Assistant Chief Dominic Choi said there was some trepidation about whether to allow journalists into the fire-ravaged area while authorities were still continuing their search for bodies of fire victims.

Commissioner Rasha Gerges Shields said that while she had some concerns about the LAPD’s performance, overall she was impressed and suggested that officers should be commended for their courage. The department has said that dozens of officers lost their homes to the fires.

The report also recommended that the department issue masks and personal protective equipment after there was a shortage for officers on the front lines throughout the first days of the blaze.

The Palisades fire was one of the costliest and most destructive disasters in city history, engulfing nearly 23,000 acres, leveling more than 6,000 structures and killing 12 people. More than 60,000 people were evacuated. The deaths of five people within L.A. city limits remain under investigation by the LAPD’s Major Crimes Division and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.

The LAPD reports details how at 11:15 a.m., about 45 minutes after the first 911 calls, the call was made to issue a citywide tactical alert, the report said. The department stayed in a heightened state of alert for 29 days, allowing it to draw resources from other parts of the city, but also meaning that certain calls would not receive a timely police response.

As the flames began to engulf a nearby hillside, more officers began responding to the area, including a contingent that had been providing security at a visit by President Trump.

Initially, LAPD officers operated in largely a rescue- and traffic-control role. But as the fire wore on, police began to conduct crime suppression sweeps in the evacuation zones where opportunistic burglars were breaking into homes they knew were empty.

In all, 90 crimes were reported in the fire zone, including four crimes against people, a robbery and three aggravated assaults, 46 property crimes, and 40 other cases, ranging from a weapons violation to identity theft. The department made 19 arrests.

The new report comes weeks after the city of Los Angeles put out its own assessment of the fire response — and on the heels of federal prosecutors arresting and charging a 29-year-old Uber driver with intentionally setting a fire Jan. 1 that later grew into the Palisades fire.

The LAPD’s Major Crimes and Robbery-Homicide units also worked with the ATF to investigate the fire’s cause.

On the night of September 24, 2025, Hollis Frazier-Herndon performed an acoustic rendition of his song “Eldest Child” for a sold-out crowd at USC’s Shrine Auditorium. During his croon of the lyrics, “Eldest child, eldest child, I know your momma and your daddy so goddamn proud. They don’t know me, no. They don’t know me now,” the artist known as 2hollis went from a fractured growl to a sweet silky falsetto to a full collapse into tears.

It was a moment of raw catharsis as well as a culmination. During a pre-show interview backstage, Hollis revealed the hidden meaning behind the lyrics. He said the figurative “momma and daddy” are actually his fans, whose expectations he’s glad he’s fulfilled, even though they “don’t actually know each other” in real life. Thus, a sold-out crowd enthusiastically singing back at him evoked an emotional release. In tandem with that though, is the fact that this was 2hollis’ first show in his hometown since his Altadena childhood house burned down in the January 2025 fires. The embrace from his extended community after he persevered through that tragedy and continued to ascend to musical stardom was palpable.

“I’m at a place now where I feel like, in a way, it’s sort of a phoenix situation,” Hollis said about his post-fire rise from the ashes. “The whole town burned down. It was terrible and insane. But it weirdly felt like that needed to happen [to make the new album what it is]. I don’t know, it’s hard seeing somewhere you grew up just be a deserted place.”

On the day before the release of his fourth album, “star,” in April, 2hollis posted a picture of a burnt-edged tarot card with the same title. He added a message explaining that the star card was the only thing he and his mother found intact when they returned to Altadena to assess the damage. It was also later reported by 032c Magazine that atop a tall hill behind Hollis’ family property existed a wooden and metal star statue filled with lightbulbs that would glow at night. That star, which Hollis and his childhood friends would hike up to, also burned. The album “star,” 2hollis’ best version of his signature crystalline hardstyle EDM, meets grimy rage trap, meets velvet emo pop punk, emerged directly and impactfully from the remains of the roaring flames.

At the end of the full throttle album opener “flash,” Hollis said he added recorded sounds of the wind chimes from his Altadena home porch, triggered by the Santa Ana winds in the lead up to the fire. You can also hear faint gusts and flame sounds emerge sparsely throughout the project. He let the weather itself dictate the type of immersive experience the album could be, even as it also chronicles his layered chase for notoriety and glory.

“There are a lot of self-reflective moments, and it is very personal and emotional, but it’s also like one big party,” he explained. “I feel like, in a f—ed up kind of way, that’s what a fire is, too. It’s so big and full of visceral anger and emotion and almost a sad kind of wave. But then, also, it’s lit.”

2hollis is a visual thinker, thus he envisions scenes and uses optical inspiration to craft his imaginative rave-like soundscapes. Grammy-winning producer Finneas, during a recent interview with Spotify, recalled a time in the studio with 2hollis when he described a sound he was trying to capture as “a crystal with a pretty face on it.” This is a regular practice. Backstage, he described the process of juxtaposing an RL Grime-esque intense trap drop with a synth piano inspired by the movement and presence of a porcelain Chinese lucky cat he kept in his bedroom studio at the Altadena house. This was for his song “burn” from “star,” a scorcher which also happened to be the last song recorded in his home before the flames hit.

For 2hollis’ most openly psyche’d song on the album, “tell me,” where he professes lyrics like, “Everybody I don’t know tryna know me these days I don’t even know who I am,” his mental visual for the ending electro drop is illuminating. “I always imagined heavy rain there and lightning shining on someone’s face,” Hollis said about a perhaps heroic moment linked to the fire. “And it’s also like a face-off. Maybe me versus my ego on a rainy war field at the end of ‘Squid Game.’”

2hollis often creates outlandish alternate worlds he hopes to thrust his listening audience into. “I think there’s become this thing with a lot of artists where they feel the need to be relatable,” he proclaimed questioningly. “That’s cool, but I want [to present] the fantasy of, ‘Let me listen and pretend I’m not me for a few minutes.” In a time of constantly looming shaky ground, Hollis presents escapism as mindful.

2hollis

(Sandra Jamaleddine)

2hollis, at times, appears in tandem with a white tiger. The animal bears the name of his first album and appears on stage at his shows as a large figurine that roars vehemently behind him during song transitions. As much as it feels a part of his fantastical sonic world, it is also deeply tied to his personal story.

On a follow-up call from backstage at a later show in Detroit, Hollis recalled a period of debilitating psychosis he experienced at 18 years old. He mediated and prayed to Archangels as an attempt to pull himself back together. When he invoked the spirit of the Angel Metatron, he would picture a white tiger destroying all the darkness and “demonic shit” around him. “It was wild and sounds insane, but it really helped me come out of it,” he said.

The more one speaks to Hollis, the more one realizes he embodies the Shakespearean line “All the world’s a stage.” Even in the most wholesome times in his life, as a little league baseball player and school theater kid, he would get a similar “butterfly in the stomach feeling” from the performance of it all. But by that same token, he is also someone who values solitude and garnered his appreciation for it from Altadena itself.

Hollis describes it as a place of “untouched, unscathed innocence.” A place where he could walk his dog up to the star behind his home, meditate, and look at the city of LA in the distance. “I go back there all the time even though there’s nothing there anymore,” Hollis said from Detroit about his home’s unending pull. “It’s just comforting to be there by myself. The energy that was there before didn’t die.”

That far-gone youthful time alone is where Hollis dreamed of the world he’s in now. He said, if he could, he’d say to that wide-eyed yet apprehensive kid, “Dude, you’re doing it, you were right, you knew. Now it’s beautifully harmoniously coming together.” On “tell me” 2hollis raps that he’s equal parts scared of “press,” “death,” and “judgment.” But now, with overwhelming chaos in his rearview, he proclaims, “I’m running headfirst into everything. I’m not dying. I’m not scared of sh—.”

2hollis performs at Shrine Auditorium on Monday.

When Alijah Arenas opened his eyes, minutes after his Tesla Cybertruck struck a tree one morning this past April, the five-star Chatsworth High hoops phenom wasn’t sure where he was or how he’d gotten there. His initial, disoriented thought was that he’d woken up at home. But as he regained consciousness, Arena felt the seat belt wrapped tightly around his waist. He noticed the Life360 app on his phone, beeping. Outside the car, he could hear crackling sounds, like a campfire.

Then he felt the heat like a sauna cranked to its highest setting. The passenger side of the dashboard, Arenas could see, was already engulfed in flames. Smoke was filling the car’s front cabin. He could no longer see out of the windows.

Arenas reached for his iPhone, intent on using his digital key to escape, only to find the Tesla app had locked him out. Panic started to set in.

“I tried to open the door,” Arenas said, “and the door isn’t opening.”

A crumbled Telsa Cybertruck rests adjacent to a tree following a crash involving top USC basketball recruit Alijah Arenas.

(Handout)

He tore off his seat belt and moved to the back seat, away from the smoke, scanning the car desperately for an exit strategy. His heart was pounding. The heat was becoming unbearable. Then, he passed out.

No more than 10 minutes earlier — and less than two miles up Corbin Avenue — Arenas had just wrapped up a predawn workout at the DSTRKT, a gym in Chatsworth, where he’d been working his way up to 10,000 shots that week.

One of the top hoops prospects in Southern California, Arenas was weeks away from graduating from Chatsworth High after three years with the intention of joining USC a year early in 2025. He was doing everything he could to prepare for that extraordinary leap.

He was on his way home from the gym, driving south on Corbin as he had so many times before, when Arenas noticed that the Cybertruck — which is registered to his father, former NBA star Gilbert Arenas — was acting strangely. The car wasn’t reading that he left the gym. The keypad kept flickering on and off.

After stopping at one red light, he tried to switch lanes, only to notice that “the wheel wasn’t moving as easily as it should.” Drifting into the right lane, he realized that he “can’t get back to the left.”

“So then a car is coming towards me, and I think that I’ll just pull over,” he said. “So I speed up to pull over to the right in a neighborhood because there are cars parked on the street I’m on to the right. But when I’m speeding up to turn, I can’t stop. The wheel wasn’t responding to me — as if I wasn’t in the car.”

The Cybertruck careened instead into a fire hydrant, then a tree, before bursting into flames.

Minutes felt like hours as he tried to escape the smoldering car. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Arenas did whatever he could to stay alert. He bit his lip as hard as he could and clenched his nails into his skin. He doused himself with water from a water bottle to cool his body down. He tried to make as much noise as possible, yelling and banging on the glass. But the flames were getting hotter, the smoke getting thicker.

“I’m panicking,” Arenas said. “I was fighting time.”

He set out to break a window, knowing Cybertruck windows are meant to be “unbreakable.” When his hands ached from punching the glass, he started using his feet. Then he passed out again.

USC freshman Alijah Arenas, who survived a Cybertruck crash earlier this year, talks with reporters on Tuesday.

(Ryan Kartje / Los Angeles Times)

When he woke up, “I realized my whole right side had caught on fire,” he said.

But as he tore off his clothes and doused himself in water again, he heard a thud outside the car window. Sirens wailed in the distance. Just keep going, he told himself.

He kicked at the driver’s-side window with everything he had. Eventually, he spotted a crack. He kept kicking, drifting briefly out of consciousness, before the window fell away and hands began pulling him from the vehicle by his legs.

The next thing he remembers feeling was a cold rush, as if he’d jumped in a freezing river. A video of the crash scene obtained by TMZ shows Arenas lying face down in the street in a few inches of water, while the broken hydrant continues to spray into the air, after a group of good Samaritans had come to his rescue.

In all, Arenas spent at least 10 minutes in the burning car before people who happened to hear the accident eventually helped pull him to safety. It’s not lost on him how lucky he was.

“There are amazing people in this world that are willing to help and risk their own bodies for you,” Arenas said. “For me, it was like, I don’t ever want to think about me ever again.”

Alijah Arenas, of Chatsworth High, drives to the basket.

(Nick Koza)

The next hours and days are still hazy for Arenas, who was whisked away to a nearby hospital, then another. He was put into a medically induced coma, a common approach for dealing with extreme smoke inhalation.

When he finally awoke, Arenas still couldn’t speak. But right away, panic set in. He wondered if his car had hit another, or if anyone else had been hurt.

Months later, he still can’t bring himself to place any blame elsewhere for what happened. Even though there are no indications that Arenas was at fault for his steering wheel locking up.

“Honestly, I take full responsibility,” Arenas said. “Whether it was me, another car, a malfunction. I don’t really want to put anyone else in this situation — whoever made the car, anything. I want to take full responsibility for what I do. If I would’ve hurt somebody, that would have really taken a toll on me.”

Arenas spent six days in the hospital after the accident but suffered no major long-term injuries. In the weeks that followed, he took walks through his family’s neighborhood to regain his strength. Along the way, neighbors showered him with flowers and well wishes. Last month, the family welcomed the men who saved Arenas into their home to share their gratitude.

He’s still working his way toward joining USC for its summer hoops practices, with some preliminary classwork still remaining before his transition is complete. But after officially enrolling at USC last week, Arenas stood on the practice court sideline on Tuesday morning, high-fiving teammates and calling out assignments, looking every bit the part of a five-star freshman who’s ready to step in from Day One.

“His perspective is really unique,” USC coach Eric Musselman said. “Even before the accident, when you talk to Alijah, it’s a unique thought process on how he views life and views the game of basketball and how he views his teammates.”

But there’s no mistaking, in Arenas’ mind, how fortunate he is to have survived — and how many things had to go right for that to be the case. He’s convinced he was spared to help someone else in the same way he was helped.

“It taught me a lot,” Arenas said. “I’m very lucky — and not even just to be here. Just in general, in life.”

This is intended as a personal appeal to a colleague and friend, Supreme Court nominee Stephen Breyer.

There are so many people who desperately need your understanding and compassion. The sad truth is that you are not only succeeding Harry Blackmun. You are the only potential successor to William Brennan, Thurgood Marshall, Earl Warren, William O. Douglas and the whole line of humanitarian justices who understood the importance of compassion and the need to do justice, not just administer law. There are lots of able technicians who understand law. The nation, however, is entitled to at least one justice with vision, with breadth, with idealism, with–to say the word despised in the Clinton Administration–a liberal philosophy and an expansive approach to jurisprudence. Someone must carry on the work of the court’s great progressive thinkers–the justices who ended de jure racial segregation, brought us one man/one vote, opened the courts to the poor and needy, established the right to counsel for all defendants, gave women true legal equality. It was progressive justices with a view of the Constitution as a living, breathing document who gave full measure to that instrument–not the legal technocrats, not those whose view of the Constitution was frozen as of 1789.

You have a wonderful opportunity and an awesome responsibility. You can be a narrow, cramped proceduralist like Felix Frankfurter, or you can seize the occasion and grow like a Warren, a Brennan, a Blackmun. You can be cold, purely intellectual and wholly technical, or you can become what the President said he was looking for–a justice who is compassionate, who has a big heart.

I hope you will re-examine your judicial philosophy. Everyone who goes on the court should. And when you emerge, I hope it will be to assume the mantle of the Brennan-Warren legacy. Otherwise, that voice will be silenced–perhaps permanently. How ironic if that would be the enduring consequence of electing a President supported so strongly by the poor, the needy, minorities of all kinds.

Anyway, I am most hopeful for the court and the country with you there. Perhaps I’m influenced by my personal feelings, but I believe that you will not let the spirit of liberalism be extinguished, that you will be a strong voice for a philosophy that now has no other means of expression. It simply cannot be otherwise–not after all that your spiritual predecessors have fought and struggled for, including the marvelous and caring justice for whom you clerked, Arthur Goldberg. You represent an awful lot of hopes, dreams and aspirations–a vision of a nation. For better or for worse, those who depend on the court to protect their fundamental rights must now look to you. You are their best and last hope.

As I listened to the minority leader of the Senate say, “He’s not as liberal as Blackmun,” and as I heard Sen. Orrin G. Hatch (R-Utah) express his joy over your selection, I thought of how important it is to have scruples and convictions and to stick by them. How I hope that those who disdain the expansive and humanitarian philosophy of the Warren / Brennan court have misread you.

Conservatives who fight for what they believe in deserve respect and admiration. It is hard to have those feelings for others who are easily intimidated, who fear controversy, who care only about compromise and consensus or their own success. There are plenty of centrists around.They now represent the left of the court. While I rarely agree with Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist, I respect him. When he was appointed to the court, he was a lone voice for a judicial philosophy of the right. He was regularly on the short end of 8-1 votes, but he spoke for an important point of view and he almost single-handedly kept alive the principles in which he believed. They now dominate our judicial thinking. I don’t expect you to be that successful, but at least give us a voice.

The court has lots of intellect. While you will add to it, Justice Antonin Scalia represents abstract rationality well enough. But soul is important too. That is what makes greatness.

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.

They gathered at the University of California’s Hopland Research and Extension Center, where students learn about ranching and wilderness ecology.

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.”

Gov. Gavin Newsom on Tuesday night accused President Trump of intentionally fanning the flames of the Los Angeles protests and “pulling a military dragnet across” the city endangering peaceful protesters and targeting hardworking immigrant families.

The Democratic governor’s comments were a forceful rebuke to the president’s claims that deploying the California National Guard and U.S. Marines to the city was necessary to control the civil unrest.

“Donald Trump’s government isn’t protecting our communities — they’re traumatizing our communities,” Newsom said. “And that seems to be the entire point.”

The governor posted his video address to California on social media hours after Trump said at Ft. Bragg in North Carolina that he sent in troops to protect immigration agents from “the attacks of a vicious and violent mob.”

The picture Trump painted of the federal government’s role in the protests against immigration raids marks a sharp contrast to Newsom’s assertion that state and local law enforcement were successfully keeping the peace before federal authorities deployed “tear gas, “flash-bang grenades” and “rubber bullets” on Angelenos exercising their constitutional right to free speech and assembly.

Then Trump “illegally” called up the California National Guard, Newsom said.

“This brazen abuse of power by a sitting president inflamed a combustible situation, putting our people, our officers, and even our National Guard at risk,” Newsom said. “That’s when the downward spiral began. He doubled down on his dangerous National Guard deployment by fanning the flames even harder. And the president, he did it on purpose.”

The governor, who has become a target for Republicans and a central figure in the political and legal battle over the protests, has said for days that an “unhinged” Trump deployed federal troops to intentionally incite violence and chaos, seeking to divert attention away from his actions in Washington and assert his “dictatorial tendencies.”

Newsom and state Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta filed a request for a restraining order earlier Tuesday asking a federal judge to call off the “Department of Defense’s illegal militarization of Los Angeles and the takeover of a California National Guard unit.” The request came the day after California filed a lawsuit against the Trump administration alleging that the deployment of the guard without the governor’s consent violated the U.S. Constitution.

After returning to Washington, Trump commented on the “good relationship” he’s always had with Newsom, before blaming the governor for the unrest.

“This should never have been allowed to start, and if we didn’t get involved, Los Angeles would be burning down right now,” Trump said, and then made a reference to the deadly wildfires in the Los Angeles area in January. “Just as the houses burned down.”

He said the military is in the city to de-escalate the situation and control what he described as paid “insurrectionists,” “agitators” and “troublemakers.”

“We have a lot of people all over the world watching Los Angeles,” Trump said. “We’ve got the Olympics, so we have this guy allowing this to happen.”

On Monday, Trump said his top border policy advisor Tom Homan should follow through on threats to arrest the governor. Newsom immediately jumped on the comment, comparing the federal administration to an “authoritarian regime.”

“I never thought I’d hear those words. Honestly, Democrat, Republican. Never thought I’d hear those in my lifetime — to threaten a political opponent who happens to be sitting governor,” Newsom said.

House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) declined to answer a question about whether Newsom should be arrested on Tuesday and instead said the governor should be “tarred and feathered.”

Newsom took a shot at Johnson during his address, saying the speaker has “completely abdicated” his responsibility for Congress to serve as a check on the White House. He warned that “other states are next.”

“At this moment, we all need to stand up and be held to account, a higher level of accountability,” Newsom said, imploring protesters to exercise free-speech rights peacefully. “I know many of you are feeling deep anxiety, stress and fear. But I want you to know that you are the antidote to that fear and anxiety.

“What Donald Trump wants most is your fealty. Your silence. To be complicit in this moment. Do not give in to him.”

Times staff writer Laura Nelson and Washington bureau chief Michael Wilner contributed to this report.

Well, what did you expect?

When la migra raids workplaces and tries to enter schools and is vowing to do even more, L.A. ain’t going to roll out the red carpet and throw roses at them.

When Donald Trump calls up 2,000 National Guardsmen to clear the way for his immigration goons, over the strenuous objections of Gov. Gavin Newsom and Mayor Karen Bass, this city is going to push back even harder.

When Trump takes to social media to claim that “once great” Los Angeles “has been invaded and occupied by Illegal Aliens and Criminals” and that his administration will stop at nothing “to liberate Los Angeles from the Migrant Invasion,” we’re going to do something about it.

But this?

Throwing cinder blocks and e-scooters at California Highway Patrol cars from a 101 Freeway overpass? Ripping out the pink tables and benches from Gloria Molina Grand Park to create a makeshift barricade on Spring Street near City Hall? Tagging small businesses, vandalizing the old Los Angeles Times headquarters, skidding a car around the bandstand at La Placita Olvera?

That’s supposed to keep immigrant families safe and defeat Trump?

This is what many people are muttering to themselves after a weekend of protests that ended with chaos in downtown Sunday night. LAPD Chief Jim McDonnell called the damage “disgusting.” Bass posted on social media that “destruction and vandalism will not be tolerated in our City and those responsible will be held fully accountable.” U.S. Sen. Alex Padilla told KTLA 5 News that it was “counterproductive.” In a statement, Eastside Assemblymember Mark González decried “agitators [whose] actions are reckless, dangerous and playing into exactly what Trump wants.”

Uprisings have a time and place, but not when they’re a trap you willingly run into. That’s what L.A. is dealing with now, and for weeks, if not months — years! — to come.

Trump called in the National Guard to set in motion his dream of crushing the city and using us as an example for other sanctuary jurisdictions of what happens if they dare defy him. L.A. is everything he loathes: diverse, immigrant-friendly, progressive and deeply opposed to him and his xenophobic agenda. He called in the Guard, even though the skirmishes between protesters and law enforcement that happened Friday in the Garment District and Saturday in Paramount were about as rowdy as when the Dodgers lose in the National League championship series.

The president knew the deployment would be incendiary, and that was the point: Goad L.A. into setting itself on fire.

A demonstrator waves a Mexican flag in front of a dumpster fire Sunday after another night of unrest during a protest against immigration raids in Los Angeles.

(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)

The National Guard has largely stood by as police officers and sheriff’s deputies beat back unruly crowds who see them as an invading force, even though McDonnell and Sheriff Robert Luna have repeatedly stated that their agencies don’t enforce immigration laws. The clashes led to visuals — protesters flying the flags of Mexico and other Latin American countries as a counterpoint to the Trump administration’s white supremacy, cars in flames, graffiti — that went worldwide and cast the City of Angels as a City in Hell.

Now, Trump is pouncing on L.A. like a cat on a mouse.

Now, Department of Defense head Pete Hegseth has taken a break from his plan to scrub the names of civil rights heroes from naval ships — instead, he’s threatening to send Marines to L.A.

Now, Trump is roaring on social media — “Paid insurrectionists” and “BRING IN THE TROOPS!!!” — like the mad king he is. Now, law enforcement from across Southern California are descending on L.A. to keep the peace.

This is what Los Angeles deserves?

At moments like these, I remember the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous maxim that “a riot is the language of the unheard,” even as he described riots in the same 1967 speech as “socially destructive and self-defeating.” Most who took to the streets last weekend are righteously angry at what Trump has done, and plans to do, to L.A. But their fury was too easily co-opted by the few who want to wantonly destroy and used the cover of protest to do so.

L.A. is famously a city that turns on itself when people have had enough, from the Zoot Suit riots to the George Floyd protests, the Watts rebellion of 1965 and the L.A. uprising of 1992.

“We might fight amongst each other/But I promise you this: we’ll burn this bitch down, get us pissed,” Tupac Shakur famously sang in “To Live and Die in L.A.”

It’s a tendency I can’t fully embrace or condemn — because I get both sides. But we can always do better — and we usually do. L.A. is also the city of the 2006 Day Without Immigrants, where hundreds of thousands peacefully marched through the same downtown streets now in shambles. Where students organize walkouts and sit-ins to fight for a better education. Where working class folks stage electoral upsets against the powers that be.

Revolts in L.A. don’t always need literal flames — because the ones that burn brightest and longest are moral and philosophical.

Protesters shut down the 101 Freeway on Sunday as they clash with law enforcement in downtown Los Angeles over the immigration raids in L.A.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

So I challenge all the folks simmering with rage against Trump’s war against L.A. and itching to do something about it — and that should be every Angeleno right now — to rebel smarter.

It’s easy to chuck rocks at a cop car. How about becoming a political prisoner a la SEIU California President David Huerta, who was arrested Friday for allegedly blocking a law enforcement van from executing a search warrant?

Setting fires to garbage cans in the middle of a street is old hat — how about providing shelter to undocumented families living with the terrifying reality that their time in this country might soon be up? Fanning out across downtown with no real destination is an L.A. tradition — what about joining the many immigrant rights groups who have set up rapid response networks to show up where la migra does?

The feds don’t play — but neither does L.A. Let’s show the world what we do at our best.