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Federal prosecutors sued Southern California Edison, saying its equipment ignited the 2019 Saddle Ridge fire, which burned nearly 9,000 acres and damaged or destroyed more than 100 homes in the San Fernando Valley.

The complaint filed in U.S. District Court in Los Angeles on Tuesday claims that Edison was negligent in designing, constructing and maintaining its high-voltage transmission line that runs through Sylmar. Equipment on the line is now suspected of causing both the 2019 fire as well as the Hurst fire on Jan. 7.

Edison has acknowledged that its equipment may have ignited the Jan. 7 fire, but it has been arguing for years in a separate lawsuit brought by Saddle Ridge fire victims that its equipment did not start the 2019 fire.

Lawyers for the victims say they have evidence showing the transmission line is not properly grounded, leading to two wildfires in six years. Edison’s lawyers call those claims an “exotic ignition theory” that is wrong.

In the new lawsuit, the federal government is seeking to recover costs for the damage the 2019 fire caused to 800 acres of national forest, including for the destruction of wildlife and habitats. The lawsuit also requests reimbursement for the federal government’s costs of fighting the fire.

“The ignition of the Saddleridge Fire by SCE’s power and transmission lines and equipment is prima facie evidence of SCE’s negligence,” states the complaint, which was filed by acting U.S. Atty. Bill Essayli.

“The United States has made a demand on SCE for payment of the costs and damages incurred by the United States to suppress the Saddleridge Fire and to undertake emergency rehabilitation efforts,” the complaint said. “SCE has not paid any part of the sum.”

David Eisenhauer, an Edison spokesman, said the company was reviewing the federal government’s lawsuit and “will respond through the legal process.”

“Our hearts are with the people and communities that were affected,” he said.

The 2019 wildfire tore through parts of Sylmar, Granada Hills and Porter Ranch, killing at least one person.

The fire ignited under a transmission tower just three minutes after a steel part known as a y-clevis broke on another tower more than two miles away, according to two government investigations into the fire. The equipment failure on that tower caused a fault and surge in power.

In the ongoing lawsuit by victims of the 2019 fire, the plaintiffs argue that the power surge traveled along the transmission lines, causing some of the towers miles away to become so hot that they ignited the dry vegetation underneath one of them. Government investigators also found evidence of burning at the base of a second tower nearby, according to their reports.

The lawyers for the victims say the same problem — that some towers are not properly grounded — caused the Hurst fire on the night of Jan. 7.

“The evidence will show that five separate fires ignited at five separate SCE transmission tower bases in the same exact manner as the fire that started the Saddle Ridge fire,” the lawyers wrote in a court filing this summer.

In that filing, the lawyers included parts of a deposition they took of an L.A. Fire Department captain who said he believed that Edison was “deceptive” for not informing the department that its equipment failed just minutes before the 2019 blaze ignited, and for having an employee offer to buy key surveillance video from that night from a business next to one of its towers.

Edison has denied its employee offered to buy the video. A spokeswoman said the utility did not tell the fire department that its equipment failed because it happened at a tower miles away from where the fire ignited.

Residents who witnessed both fires told The Times they saw fires burning under transmission towers on the evening of the 2019 fire and the night of Jan. 7.

Roberto Delgado and his wife, Ninoschka Perez, can see the towers from their Sylmar home. They told The Times they saw a fire on Jan. 7 under the same tower where investigators say the 2019 fire started.

The family had to quickly flee in the case of each fire.

“We were traumatized,” Delgado said. “If I could move my family away from here I would.”

The Jan. 7 fire burned through 799 acres and required thousands of people to evacuate. Firefighters extinguished the blaze before it destroyed any homes.

Any western worth its dusty boots and big-sky openness should know what’s breathtaking about freedom, at the same time grasping how being tamed is an uneasy, clarifying rite of passage. That men have typically led these stories means there’s a lot still to be mined when women tackle this genre — both in front of and behind the camera — and in “East of Wall,” about a struggling ranch matriarch (Tabatha Zimiga) with a headstrong daughter (Porshia Zimiga), writer-director Kate Beecroft has found a worthy modern story of cowgirl hardiness near South Dakota’s Badlands.

That air of independence and restriction applies also to what “East of Wall” itself is: a narrative centered on first-time actors playing versions of themselves in a story shaped from their lives, in this case the joys and sorrows of the Zimigas’ open-plains existence rescuing, riding and selling horses, and dealing with financial uncertainty after the loss of a loved one.

When Chloé Zhao took the docu-fiction approach with her melancholy 2017 neo-western “The Rider,” the blended realism and dramatic choreography achieved something heartbreaking, reawakening the hybrid’s possibilities. Beecroft’s solid-enough first feature isn’t as effortlessly transcendent — the seams show a bit more. But there’s plenty of lived-in warmth in its accumulation of details and it gives needed voice to the concerns of women forging their own way in an environment that isn’t exactly kind on anyone.

Very quickly, we’re swept up in what’s loose, chaotic and appealing about tough, tattooed horse whisperer Tabatha and her rough-and-tumble operation, which includes her own children — Porshia is already a rising rodeo star — and various teenagers from this strapped region’s broken homes, plus her hard-bitten mom (Jennifer Ehle), who enjoys her peach moonshine. There’s an unruly found-family charm that belies what’s isolating and rundown about their situation and Austin Shelton’s vista-friendly cinematography does a good job contrasting that beauty and severity, especially in Tabatha herself, an earthy, battle-hardened goddess with a head half-shaved and half-draped with golden hair, and kind eyes rimmed with mascara. She always looks ready to calm a bronc, knock back a beer or tell you off.

Tabatha’s reputation for breaking wild steeds and supporting wayward kids is legion and her sales methods lean toward the unconventional: TikTok videos that frame horses at full speed against ravishing backdrops, and at barn sales, showcases that spotlight her girls’ performing skills. Money is tight, though, and the sting of her husband’s suicide a year earlier has put a grief wedge between Tabatha and Porshia as each tries to imagine what the future holds. That’s when an observant, dogged Texas rancher with his own baggage (Scoot McNairy) shows up with a tempting lifeline that puts everyone’s ownership of their fate in stark relief.

“East of Wall” lives in that indie space of wanting to respect and vibe equally, which means there’s a little too much slo-mo montage and, considering how invested we are in this family, not enough memorable scene work. But even with the thinnest of narrative framing and some arty touches that feel superfluous, there’s an overall portrait of authentic grit and resilience here, of knowing when to hold on and when to let go, that is well-nurtured by Beecroft’s admiring eye for these renegade women.

Nothing against McNairy and Ehle who play well with the first-timers, but there are moments when you wonder if Beecroft should have straight-up made a documentary, foregoing the harnessing of scripted incident for the rawness of what drew her to these people and this world in the first place. Which is another way of saying mother and daughter Zimiga are real finds, true-to-themselves keepers of a heartland tradition, and fresh faces getting to tell that story in a nontraditional form.