Topline:
More than a month and half after L.A.’s devastating fires, the recovery is just beginning. And even for the residents of burn zones whose homes survived, the road ahead is complicated.
Health concerns: Some residents are staying in their homes in the burn zones, waiting for insurance to cover cleanup and worrying about their health as debris removal continues around them.
Read on ... to learn more about how two Altadena residents are coping and for recovery resources.
On a sunny day in late January, Tamara Carroll returned to her home on Navarro Avenue in west Altadena for the first time. It survived the Eaton Fire, and she was coming back with an insurance inspector to assess the damage.
“ I don't know how I feel,” Carroll said. “I'm grateful I have a house to come back to, but it's a long journey ahead.”
Her group of girlfriends were there to support her — close friends she’s known for some 35 years.
"We come together in happiness and sadness ... all the events of life,” said friend Barri Brown. “This is one of those times where we come together and put our arms around each other.”
More than a month and half after L.A.’s devastating fires, the recovery is just beginning.
Even for residents whose homes survived, the road ahead is complicated.
Some are staying in their homes, worried about the health effects as they wait for their insurance to cover smoke and ash cleanup, and watch as debris removal continues around them. Others are staying elsewhere, and still not sure they’ll ever return for good.
For those whose homes still stand in the burn zones, homeowners insurance and personal property insurance should cover most damage, including smoke damage, said David Russell, professor of insurance and finance at Cal State Northridge. But there can be limitations.
“ In some cases, smoke damage is a tricky one because reasonable people can disagree about whether or not there's a smell of smoke or if it's damaged,” Russell said. “The policy is really about physical damage. And it's less about if you don't feel safe.”
Russell said personal property insurance may cover only the depreciated value of objects like couches and mattresses. Russell added that residents should not be afraid to ask their adjusters about additional coverage and to document everything if you disagree with the assessment.
Here are some more resources to help you navigate insurance and recovery after the fires:
Carroll didn’t evacuate the night the Eaton Fire broke out, putting out spot fires in her yard and her neighbors’ yard as she watched homes burning a couple blocks down the street.
Once the flames died down, she stayed in her house for nearly another week without power, water or gas.
“It was just cold. I had no heat, and I was sleeping in my clothes,” Carroll recalled. “I was hyper vigilant: I had my backpack. I slept in my shoes. And it just became too much on my psyche.”
She left for a hotel in Burbank, which her insurance is covering. But she’s been replaying the night of Jan. 7 in her head, and rewatching the videos she took on her phone.
“I keep replaying those moments where I see the flames and the fire.... That's the trauma,” Carroll said.
The insurance adjuster tallied the physical damage. He marked charred shingles on her roof with white chalk. Her outdoor furniture is burned. The wall between her and her neighbor's house blew over in the wind.
Inside, the house smells like smoke. The adjuster swiped the walls with tissues — a thin coat of ash covered them. The adjuster recommended a smoke and ash cleaning.
Her homeowners insurance covers only the structure itself — the adjuster told Carroll she’ll need to have another adjuster with her personal property insurance to assess her furniture, rugs and the like.
By mid-February, Carroll just got the check for exterior repairs, but still awaits the insurance payment for smoke and ash remediation inside. She’s negotiating with her adjuster for additional coverage.
Even once the repairs are done, though, she doesn’t know if she’ll permanently return to the home her parents bought in 1963.
“We're grieving,” Carroll said. “Altadena will never ever be like it was. Ever.”
A couple of blocks over, on Glenrose Avenue, Ana Martinez and her family are still working to clean up their home, which also survived the fire. Their neighbor’s house didn’t.
“We’re surviving,” Martinez said. “Trying to get back to normal. Our new normal now.”
Martinez pointed out damage to the three homes on the property: Roof shingles and wood siding are charred. The carport is gone. The window blinds are melted, the glass broken from the heat of the flames. Her trash bins are a single melted piece of green, blue and black plastic.
“It's my new art piece now,” Martinez said.
Martinez said insurance will replace only damaged shingles, not the whole roof, though she thinks that is needed. They’ll also replace the windows. Martinez and her husband, sons, nephews and other family members have done their best to clean up inside and outside their homes.
But they’re still waiting on professional smoke and ash remediation. And as debris cleanup continues around her, she worries the house will only take in more toxic ash and dirt.
In the days after the fire, researchers measured high levels of lead, heavy metals, asbestos, microplastics and other toxic pollutants in the air. Those particles can settle into soil and dust, potentially becoming re-suspended as cleanup and rebuilding efforts continue. That toxic pollution can lead to health issues, from respiratory problems to increased risks of heart disease and cancer.
All of that is making Martinez worried about her family’s health.
The Martinezes have lived in their home this whole time. She said she and her husband developed bad coughs and recently went to the doctor for lung X-rays.
“We have kids here,” Martinez said. “We want to make sure they're safe; we don't want to just do a job halfway.”
Their young granddaughter and grandson, who has heart and lung issues, recently returned to the house because insurance stopped advancing money for their stays in hotels and short-term rentals after the first couple of weeks, instead asking them to submit claims for reimbursement.
California law requires insurance to pay four months of advance payments for living expenses for people who lost their homes in a fire, but there aren’t the same benefits for those whose homes survived. Coverage for temporary housing in this case varies by policy.
In the Martinezes case, they now have to foot the bill upfront and submit claims for reimbursement.
“They said ... 'It's best if you don't stay; we recognize it's bad for your health, so go away ... and then send us the receipts,'” Martinez said. “But what if they come out and say, ‘Oh, that's not covered.’ Then what? We don't have the money to go anywhere. ... We're out of the little bit of money we have in our savings.”
Topline:
L.A. city leaders will discuss Wednesday whether to pull hundreds of millions of dollars out of the regional homelessness agency known as LAHSA and assign different oversight.
The context: The L.A. Homeless Services Authority, which is overseen by the city and county, has been under fire for more than a year. L.A. County supervisors voted last spring to pull the county’s funding from LAHSA and shift it to a new county department for homeless services.
A decision to make: At their meeting Wednesday, the City Council’s housing and homelessness committee is scheduled to discuss a range of options. Its chair, Councilmember Nithya Raman, told LAist she’s planning on two meetings to go over the options before the committee decides how to move forward.
‘In crisis’: LAHSA’s interim CEO, Gita O’Neill, said last week that the agency “is in crisis” with “very low” morale following the county funding pullout.
Read on... for more on the options being weight by the L.A. City Council.
L.A. city leaders will discuss on Wednesday whether to pull hundreds of millions of dollars out of the regional homelessness agency and assign different oversight.
L.A. County supervisors voted to withdraw funding for the L.A. Homeless Services Authority last April, citing ongoing problems with the agency's oversight of homelessness funds.
Now 10 months later, City Council members are planning to talk about whether to pull the city’s funds from LAHSA — which amount to just under $300 million this fiscal year.
It’s one of the most consequential decisions on homelessness city officials have faced in years. In deciding the future of LAHSA, the City Council will be deciding who will be entrusted with taxpayer funds meant to address the nation’s largest unsheltered homeless population.
On Wednesday, the council’s Housing and Homelessness Committee is scheduled to discuss a range of options that include:
The committee also is scheduled to discuss whether to pursue shifting the city’s federal homelessness funding from LAHSA to more direct city control.
The options were first laid out in a staff report to delivered last April, two years after it was requested by Councilmember Monica Rodriguez.
At a City Council meeting in January, Rodriguez criticized housing and homelessness committee chair Nithya Raman for not scheduling a committee discussion on the options.
“It's been sitting [for] 280 days, a report in your committee that you won't hear,” Rodriguez said at the January meeting. “So let's stop playing this false notion of the arsonists showing up as the firefighters.”
Asked for a response Monday, Raman’s spokesperson Stella Stahl told LAist the item is on Wednesday's agenda.
In a statement, Raman said she expects to hold two meetings to discuss all the city’s options before the council makes a decision.
Raman and Mayor Karen Bass urged the county not to pull funding from LAHSA last spring, saying the agency was making progress on homelessness.
The supervisors went ahead last April with their decision to withdraw the more than $300 million in annual county funding from the agency.
The vast majority of county funds will be shifted from LAHSA starting July 1.
Raman recently announced she’s running in the June primary against Bass, whom she previously endorsed for re-election.
If you have a tip, you can reach me on Signal. My username is ngerda.47.
LAHSA was created by the city and county in 1993 to oversee homeless services. It’s governed by a CEO who reports to a commission of 10 members. Half of the members are appointed by the L.A. mayor, and the other half by each of the five county supervisors. Bass also serves on the commission, having appointed herself in fall 2023.
While it’s long faced criticism, it’s been under particularly close scrutiny for more than a year.
An audit and court-ordered review found it failed to properly track its spending and whether services were being provided.
LAHSA also has been facing criticism more recently for months-long delays in paying tens of millions of dollars to reimburse service providers — a problem officials vowed to fix nearly two years ago. Several providers recently told LAist they've had had to dip into reserves or take on debt.
While addressing the commission that oversees the organization on Friday, CEO O’Neill said LAHSA was “in crisis. And I say this not as a criticism to any of our really hardworking staff. They've built what they were asked to build.”
LAHSA’s staff report to “essentially 21 elected bosses, all of whom have different, sometimes conflicting agendas,” O’Neill said. “This creates a structure that is unstable.”
“LAHSA has been structured for decades as the entity that takes the blame,” she added. “Political incentive…has been to point at LAHSA rather than to address structural issues.”
“Morale is very low,” O’Neill said of LAHSA staff.
Topline:
Fifteen years ago, when modern electric vehicles were just hitting the road, no one knew exactly what to expect from their giant, expensive lithium-ion batteries. EV batteries were intended to last longer than those smaller, cheaper batteries. But how much longer?
Early predictions: In 2010, the New York Times wrote that "estimates of [EV] battery packs' lifespan — no one knows for sure — range upward from seven years." The average car on the road is more than 12 years old. And that discrepancy made some would-be EV buyers nervous. But as the fleet of EVs on the road ages, new data pooled from tens of thousands of vehicles is showing those batteries are lasting longer than expected.
Longer lifespan: Recurrent, a research firm that pulls in data from over 30,000 EV drivers, found a rapid decline at the beginning of a battery's life, a long leveling off, and then a more rapid decline at the end. Recurrent's data shows that the initial drop-off is not as severe as some people had worried, with cars from most major brands retaining 95% or more of their expected range after 3 years.
Fifteen years ago, when modern electric vehicles were just hitting the road, no one knew exactly what to expect from their giant, expensive lithium-ion batteries.
As batteries age, they hold less and less energy. Anyone who's ever had a dying smartphone, or had to replace a vehicle's 12-volt starter battery, knows this painfully well.
EV batteries were intended to last longer than those smaller, cheaper batteries. But how much longer?
The predictions were not soothing. In 2010, the New York Times wrote that "estimates of [EV] battery packs' lifespan — no one knows for sure — range upward from seven years." The average car on the road is more than 12 years old. And that discrepancy made some would-be EV buyers nervous.
Batteries come with warranties, but they don't last as long as the car. If a high-voltage battery chokes out midway through a car's life, it needs replacing — at a price tag that can run in the ballpark of $5,000 to $20,000.
But there's good news.
As the fleet of EVs on the road ages, new data pooled from tens of thousands of vehicles is showing those batteries are lasting longer than expected.
Lithium-ion batteries undergo two kinds of aging. First, there's calendar aging: They degrade as time goes on, holding less juice, even if they just sit in storage.
Then there's cyclical aging, which is how much a battery degrades based on its use — being charged and discharged, over and over again.
That means there's no way to dodge degradation. Whether you use a vehicle a lot or a little, eventually, the battery will hold less energy.
But the trajectory of aging isn't a straight line. Recurrent, a research firm that pulls in data from over 30,000 EV drivers, describes it as an "S curve." There's a rapid decline at the beginning, a long leveling off, and then a more rapid decline at the end.
"It's very much like breaking in a pair of shoes," says Liz Najman, the director of market insights at Recurrent. The shoes start out stiff, but quickly get a little more give. "And then your shoes just last you," she says, until at some point, "It's all over, it's a rapid decline."
And when it comes to EV batteries, two things are becoming clear. The initial drop-off is not as severe as some people had worried. And the sharp end-of-life decline is taking a long, long time to materialize.
Adam George is a vehicle services director at Cox Automotive, which runs used car auctions around the country. In recent years, the number of used EVs for sale has increased enormously — reflecting the sharp rise in production a few years ago.
That's given Cox Automotive a growing pool of used EVs to evaluate before they're re-sold.
"We were expecting battery health to be experiencing mass degradation over the first one to three years of owning a vehicle," George says. "What we have seen, though, is that these 2, 3, 4-year-old off-lease cars that are coming back have battery health scores well upwards of 95%."
Recurrent's data also shows that cars from most major brands retain 95% or more of their expected range after 3 years, thanks in part to software and battery management systems that are designed to correct for the battery's early degradation, and give drivers consistent range.
So the initial drop-off in that S curve is in the range of 5% or so, give or take. After that? Well, Cox Automotive has tested nearly 80,000 EVs, and found an average battery health of 92%.
That data set is naturally skewed toward younger vehicles, because the vast majority of EVs on the road today are fairly new. There were only a million EVs sold between 2010 and 2018, and now there are more than a million sold each year.
So what about the oldest EVs, specifically?
Recurrent's data can help answer this question. Najman, a data scientist, notes a few caveats: It's a fairly small dataset, just because there weren't many EVs built more than a decade ago. And some of the oldest EVs use technology that can't connect to Recurrent's opt-in network.
But based on their community, among EVs that are 10 years old or older, only 8.5% have ever had a battery replacement. More than 90% of them are still on their original battery.
"EV batteries are holding up phenomenally well," Najman says.
Recurrent has also looked at EVs of any age that have more than 150,000 miles on them, which provides a closer look at the effects of that cyclical aging. There, too, the batteries outperformed expectations.
"Cars with 150,000 miles or more, and that have not had battery replacements, are getting at least 83% of their original range," Najman says.
Now, there is one common reason why EV batteries will be replaced very early on: a defect. There have been multiple large-scale battery recalls, and any individual battery might have a flaw that requires replacement. But because all new EVs come with warranties, that kind of replacement isn't a financial blow to owners.
"That would be something that would be synonymous with, like, your engine or a transmission going bad," says Adam George, of Cox Automotive. "That's what warranties are for."
EV battery warranties typically cover at least 8 years and 100,000 miles, and automakers will replace the battery in the case of catastrophic failure, or a reduction in capacity (usually to 70% of the original or less).
What do all these stats look like in real life? Consider Norman Hajjar's Model S.
Hajjar was an early adopter of electric vehicles. He kind of had to be: In 2013 he became an executive at the electric vehicle drivers' app Plugshare.
His 2012 Model S is one of the first that Tesla ever built. When he got it, he was well aware of the question mark about battery lifespan. "There was really no way of knowing what the future held for it because there was zero track record," Hajjar says.
In his case, the future held a battery defect: a loud noise followed by his car coming to an abrupt stop. He recalls Tesla replacing the battery — free of charge and under warranty — in 2014.
Since then, he's spent 12 years on that second battery. He's put around 200,000 miles on the car overall. And it's driving great, thank you very much.
"This vehicle still is a monster," Hajjar says, affectionately. "It is extremely fast, quick off the line."
The vehicle was originally rated to have 265 miles of range. Now it has about 220. Do the math, and it's at 83% of its original capacity. "The amount of degradation is pretty minor," Hajjar says.
Hajjar has moved on to a newer vehicle for his daily driver, mostly to enjoy higher-tech features. (His newer Model Y has Tesla's advanced driver-assistance software.) His son uses the Model S these days for his commute to college. "It's just sort of a backup vehicle now," Hajjar says. But he plans to hang on to it. He's sentimental about it, he says.
The engineers who developed modern EVs knew that prolonging battery life would be crucial. They designed systems to actively manage temperatures to improve battery lifespan, and software to constantly check battery health. Years have shown those efforts paid off.
But there's another reason EV batteries have out-performed expectations. It turns out that testing batteries is harder on them than the real world. Their lifespan was underestimated.
Simona Onori's lab at Stanford University has done research into the longevity of lithium-ion batteries, including a 2024 paper in Nature Energy showing that traditional methods for testing battery life are very stressful, and don't match the way batteries are actually used.
In most lab tests, researchers repeatedly cycle them from a very high state of charge to a very low one.
Real-world driving is gentler, with stops and starts — each start draws a bit of the battery's energy down, while each stop gives it a little time to recharge. A driver would never slam the accelerator to the floor and keep it there until the battery is dead.
"We accelerate, we decelerate," Onori says. "The battery will be charged, and discharged, some rest if you're at a traffic light."
Her lab's findings suggest that the traditional tests for battery life were unrealistically challenging, and Onori says ongoing work with real-world data is now confirming that. When they're actually driven, she says, EV batteries "age gracefully. Very gracefully."
Just like humans, she notes: "When we live a life with less stress, we live longer."
So how long do EV batteries last? It's still too soon to put a precise number on it, because — as a group — the cars already on the road haven't yet reached the end of the S-curve, the point when they will start to show massive performance declines. In other words, they're not dead yet.
Meanwhile, battery technology keeps improving. The oldest EVs, like Hajjar's Model S, may not be the best indicator of how long newer EVs will last. Software systems to manage batteries have gotten more sophisticated. A lot of new EVs use a different battery chemistry — lithium iron phosphate or LFP — which lasts even longer than other lithium-ion batteries.
As Stephanie Valdez-Streaty, who follows EV trends for Cox Automotive, puts it: "These batteries are built to outlast the cars."
And there's one more wrinkle when it comes to figuring out the end of life for a normally-aging EV battery. They don't die abruptly, like an old engine cutting out. It's more that their range shrinks; they can only hold enough energy for shorter and shorter trips. Instead of shelling out for an expensive battery replacement, some EV owners might just put up with that limitation.
Thomas McVeigh, of Ontario, Canada, drives a 2014 BMW i3. That vehicle didn't have an impressive range even when it was new, and now it can only manage about 55 miles on a single charge in the winter. But it still looks great. It's pleasant to drive. It saves him on gas. Maintenance is wildly cheap for a 12-year-old vehicle, and especially for a BMW; his only real cost is new tires.
He's fine with its diminished range. And he's not inclined to put what he estimates would be a $6,000 battery into an aging car. Instead, maybe he'll pass it on to his kid. "Teenagers generally aren't going for long drives," he says.
Or maybe he'll keep it for himself, after all. "I mean," he says, "I love that car."
Copyright 2026 NPR
Topline:
This week the Getty Villa Museum will begin offering a rare look at scrolls from its ancient Egyptian “Book of the Dead” collection.
The backstory: The collection of 19 manuscripts written on scrolls of papyrus and linen fragments are fragile, with one of them dating back nearly 3,500 years. Because of that, the materials are not usually on display to the public and the gallery will be carefully lit, temperature and humidity-controlled.
The materials: The exhibition will feature four papyri belonging to women named Webennesre, Ankhesenaset, and Aset. “Book of the Dead” materials belonging to women are rare, because most were reserved for men.
How to go: The “The Egyptian Book of the Dead” at the Getty Villa runs from March 4 to Nov. 30.
This week the Getty Villa Museum will begin offering a rare look at scrolls from its ancient Egyptian “Book of the Dead” collection.
The collection of 19 manuscripts written on scrolls of papyrus and linen fragments are fragile, with one of them dating back nearly 3,500 years. Because of that, the materials are not usually on display to the public and the gallery will be carefully lit, temperature and humidity-controlled.
Sara Cole, associate curator of antiquities, told LAist that a lot of the language in the spells is written in first person speech for the deceased spirit to say while navigating the afterlife.
“One of my favorite phrases that I have on a wall of the gallery is ‘May I join with the stars that call out to me in the night boat,’” Cole said.
Cole explained that the manuscripts have been in the Getty’s collection since 1983, when they were donated by a bookseller in New York, who got them from the private collection of a British rare manuscript collector.
A years-long project is underway to translate the spells and rituals immortalized in the Getty's “Book of the Dead” scrolls and fragments, with a “large publication” in the works, Cole said.
The exhibition will feature four papyri belonging to women named Webennesre, Ankhesenaset, and Aset. Cole said “Book of the Dead” materials belonging to women are rare, because most were reserved for men.
Twelve of the manuscripts in the exhibition are written on fragments of linen that were used to wrap the mummified remains of the people they belonged to. Cole said she hopes visitors will understand that the material was very intimately associated with peoples’ burials.
Cole said her goal is to foreground the identities of the people who owned the scrolls, including two women who were ritual singers for the god Amun in the ancient city of Thebes.
“We see in these manuscripts the ancient Egyptians really grappling with this question and thinking about what might happen when we die... And I think that’s something we can all connect with and understand,” she said.
Cole recommends visiting the Getty’s website for a calendar of curator tours and special events related to the exhibition, including an upcoming talk by an Egyptologist.
The “The Egyptian Book of the Dead” at the Getty Villa runs from March 4 to Nov. 30.
Topline:
The Supreme Court hears arguments Monday in an important gun case that has united an array of strange bedfellows, from conservative gun rights groups to liberal civil liberties groups.
Why it matters: At issue is a federal law making it a crime for drug users to possess a firearm. It's the same law that was used to prosecute then-President Joe Biden's son for illegal gun possession — only this case involves marijuana use and gun ownership.
What's next: A decision in the case is expected by summer.
Read on... for more about the case.
The Supreme Court hears arguments Monday in an important gun case that has united an array of strange bedfellows, from conservative gun rights groups to liberal civil liberties groups. At issue is a federal law making it a crime for drug users to possess a firearm. It's the same law that was used to prosecute then-President Joe Biden's son for illegal gun possession — only this case involves marijuana use and gun ownership.
The briefs in the case present diametrically different versions of the facts. On one side, the Trump administration portrays Ali Danial Hemani as a drug dealer and someone with terrorist ties and a marijuana habit. Importantly, he is not being prosecuted for any of those offenses, however. Rather, the government has charged Hemani with violating a federal gun law that bars people with drug addiction from possession of firearms, a crime punishable by up to 15 years in prison.
The 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals threw out the indictment, declaring that the federal law violates Hemani's Second Amendment right to own a gun.
The Justice Department appealed to the Supreme Court, arguing that because Hemani admitted to FBI agents that he used marijuana several times a week, he is a "persistent" drug user, thus rendering illegal the possession of the gun he bought legally and keeps securely in his home.
Hemani's lawyer, law professor Naz Ahmad of the City University of New York, paints a very different picture of her client. Hemani, she notes, was born and raised in Texas, "attended high school there, played on the high school football team, attended the University of Texas at Arlington, was an honor student there" and is "a really valued member of his local religious community."
"The Second Amendment doesn't support disarming and prosecuting somebody for mere possession of a firearm if they happen to have used marijuana occasionally," she says.
"That's a mismatch," she adds, especially at a time when 40 states, to one degree or another, have legalized marijuana use.
If the court rules against Hemani, she says, "the statute could apply to anybody. It could apply to somebody who uses like a marijuana sleep gummy."
The Trump administration's advocate, Solicitor General D. John Sauer, acknowledges that under the Supreme Court's landmark gun decision four years ago, the government has a heavy burden to show that modern-day gun laws are analogous to laws in place at the nation's founding. But he contends that the statute used to prosecute Hemani is both justified and analogous to founding-era laws and practices.
Specifically, in his Supreme Court brief, Sauer points to the harsh punishments imposed during the founding era on "habitual drunkards." And he contends that both Congress and the states have restricted firearm possession by illegal drug users "for as long as that social evil has plagued America."
That said, for the most part, the case seems to have united groups from left to right, from civil liberties groups to gun rights advocates.
"It's outrageous that they tried to get him on a marijuana gun charge," says Aidan Johnston, director of federal affairs for Gun Owners of America. He contends that the government is seeking to criminalize conduct that was widely tolerated at the founding.
"It was the universal custom of founding-era militias to imbibe," he notes, adding that Thomas Jefferson and other famous Americans "possessed firearms while being users of drugs ranging from opium to cocaine."
At the opposite end of the ideological spectrum are a variety of gun-safety groups that fear that if Hemani wins his case, it could gouge a hole in the existing system of national background checks.
Under the current system, dealers are required to first clear the sale by submitting the buyer's name to the FBI's National Instant Criminal Background Check System. The hitch is that there is a very small window in which to complete the check — just three days. And gun-safety groups say that anything that makes the rules more complicated and unclear could really screw up the system.
"We're saying" to the court, "whatever you do, it's essential that you keep the rules clear so that in that short window, federal agencies can give a quick answer to the dealers," says Douglas Letter of the Brady Center to Prevent Gun Violence.
An adverse ruling, he says, would mess up the criminal background check process. That, in turn, would result in "so many, particularly women and children, who will die if that kind of a system is not in place."
A decision in the case is expected by summer.
Copyright 2026 NPR
