The Brief

State conflict of interest laws ban public officials from any involvement in contracts in which they have a financial interest, including agreements that financially benefit their spouse or groups that pay their spouse.

Los Angeles’ top homeless services executive told LAist in December that she stuck to those rules, saying she had been walled off and “completely recused” from business relating to her husband’s employer.

Through a public records request, LAist later discovered records that contradict her assertion.

The documents show that Va Lecia Adams Kellum, chief executive of the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority (LAHSA), signed a $2.1 million contract and two other contract amendments with Upward Bound House, the Santa Monica-based nonprofit where her husband Edward Kellum works in senior leadership. The contract names Adams Kellum as the LAHSA official authorized to administer it.

A LAHSA spokesperson told LAist the contracts had inadvertently ended up in front of Adams Kellum to sign.

LAist’s findings come amid mounting questions about oversight at LAHSA, the public agency tasked by the city and county with administering more than $700 million in annual contracts with nonprofits to provide homeless services. It is a creation of the city and county and jointly funded and overseen by both.

Upward Bound House is a longtime vendor of LAHSA that focuses on housing and services for unhoused families, as well as young adults. It began receiving public money from LAHSA years prior to Adams Kellum joining the agency in March 2023.

When employees sign LAHSA’s code of ethics they agree to avoid any activities that could be, or appear to be, conflicts of interest, according to a copy posted on LAHSA’s website. One of the examples given is immediate family relationships with the agency’s vendors.

The $2.1 million contract signed by Adams Kellum authorized federal taxpayer funds for Upward Bound House to pay rent for unhoused people in the region and help them find homes. The money also covered case management and administration costs at the nonprofit.

The records show Adams Kellum signed the three documents directly above the names of her husband’s employer and his boss.

The signature sections of two contract amendments (dated the same day) and a $2.1 million contract Va Lecia Adams Kellum signed between the government agency she leads and her husband’s employer. LAist obtained the documents through a public records request.

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LAist found that Adams Kellum’s interactions with Upward Bound House extended beyond signing contracts.

She also spoke with her husband's employer last year regarding complaints made during public comments alleging failures in Upward Bound House’s performance, according to the nonprofit’s chief executive.

Government ethics experts say conflict of interest laws forbid a wide range of involvement, including signing contracts.

“The laws are pretty specific that you can't have any participation whatsoever,” said Sean McMorris, who manages the ethics program for California Common Cause. “You should not be putting your signature on any such contract. You have to completely recuse yourself from the matter.”

McMorris said in the eyes of the law, a conflict of interest violation can take place even if the breach was unintentional. He told LAist that Adams Kellum’s signatures appear to violate California’s Political Reform Act and the state’s Government Code Section 1090.

Following ethics expectations, he added, is "extremely important because it speaks to the integrity and character of our representatives."

Adams Kellum said her conflict was disclosed

Adams Kellum previously told LAist she had steered clear of anything to do with her husband’s employer.

“This issue was disclosed when I was hired,” Adams Kellum wrote in a Dec. 9 email, prior to LAist requesting public records that showed she had signed LAHSA contracts with her husband’s employer.

“LAHSA's [legal] counsel has put procedures in place that have been followed and these procedures ‘walled me off’ from any involvement in matters concerning Upward Bound House,” she added. “I am completely recused from matters that involve or impact Upward Bound House.”

Adams Kellum has not responded to follow-up questions and interview requests from LAist about the contracts she signed, including questions about whether conflict of interest laws may have been violated.

Edward Kellum, her husband, did not respond to LAist’s requests for comment. He is featured as one of six people on the “senior staff” section of Upward Bound House’s website, where his title is director of operations and compliance.

Also listed is the organization’s president and CEO, Christine Mirasy-Glasco. She acknowledged to LAist that Adams Kellum, in her role as LAHSA’s top executive, spoke with her once regarding complaints from public commenters alleging Upward Bound House failed to provide required services and falsified documents.

In an email, Mirasy-Glasco wrote that Adams Kellum “shared that LAHSA would follow up with UBH,” and said a subordinate of Adams Kellum was assigned to work with the vendor to get the complainants into permanent housing. Mirasy-Glasco provided LAist with written responses to several of the complaints.

Paul Rubenstein, a spokesperson for LAHSA, also said follow-up on the complaints was handled by a subordinate of Adams Kellum.

Spokesperson says signatures were an ‘oversight’

As for the three agreements with her husband’s employer, Rubenstein said Adams Kellum “mistakenly signed” them after staffers inadvertently sent them to her. When the CEO has a conflict of interest, LAHSA’s standard practice is for contracts to instead be signed by the agency’s top programs officer, Rubenstein wrote.

“Dr. Adams Kellum has not been involved in any discussions regarding Upward Bound House contracts,” Rubenstein wrote in an email to LAist. He added that Adams Kellum “has never been involved in overseeing any programs or agreements with UBH."

“LAHSA is taking steps to further ensure this does not happen again, including requiring additional staff training,” he added, noting that all contracts go through multiple reviews and require “three staff signatures before being sent to the CEO or her designee.”

Rubenstein did not respond to an email asking how Adams Kellum’s signatures could be a mistake, given their close proximity to Upward Bound House’s name.

He also did not answer why, if Adams Kellum was completely recused, she was named in the $2.1 million contract with Upward Bound House as LAHSA's representative "authorized to administer" the agreements.

What the oversight commission knew

The 10-member LAHSA Commission is responsible for overseeing the agency and its CEO. Half of the commission is appointed by county supervisors, and half are appointed by L.A.’s mayor with confirmation by the City Council.

“The LAHSA Commission was fully informed and consulted with legal counsel about potential conflicts prior to Dr. Adams Kellum being offered the position,” Rubenstein said.

But LAist found that members of the LAHSA Commission had varying degrees of awareness of Adams Kellum’s conflict — and gave different instructions over time at the recommendation of staff.

In August 2023, LAHSA’s governing commission specifically excluded Adams Kellum from signing the $2.1 million contract when it came up for a vote, according to the meeting’s minutes. Instead, the commission authorized its chair to enter into the agreement. The meeting record shows Adams Kellum recused herself and stepped out of the room during the vote.

Despite the prohibition, she signed that contract months later.

In other instances later on, the LAHSA Commission apparently changed course. Despite Adams Kellum’s conflict of interest disclosure forms, commissioners voted to follow staff’s recommendation to authorize her to enter into contracts with Upward Bound House.

L.A. Mayor Karen Bass was among the commissioners who voted unanimously last year to allow Adams Kellum to sign other contracts with the service provider, according to meeting minutes and agendas. (Bass was not yet on the commission for the August 2023 vote.)

Asked for comment about the conflict of interest, Zach Seidl, a spokesperson for Bass, said work is underway to “make LAHSA more transparent and accountable,” including “initiating additional protocols to prevent future issues.”

Va Lecia Adams Kellum, CEO of the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority (LAHSA), with current chair of the agency’s governing commission Wendy Greuel (left) and L.A. Mayor Karen Bass (right).

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Two other commission members who joined the LAHSA Commission after Adams Kellum was hired — L.A. County Supervisors Kathryn Barger and Lindsey Horvath — were not formally notified of the conflict prior to voting to allow her to enter agreements with Upward Bound House, according to their spokespeople.

Barger didn’t find out about the family tie until after she left the LAHSA Commission in October 2024, according to her spokesperson. Horvath was not officially notified about the conflict, though it was known among many who work in homeless services, according to Horvath’s spokesperson.

LAist reviewed those later contracts, and found Adams Kellum did not ultimately sign them. Instead, subordinates signed with Adams Kellum’s name printed below most of the signature lines.

What’s next

Questions about transparency and how LAHSA is handling hundreds of millions in public dollars have been a growing concern for local lawmakers.

Adams Kellum faced controversy recently over her hiring of Lilly Simmering for a top-level LAHSA leadership position that oversees all homelessness programs. Simmering oversaw an Orange County government department that paid out millions of dollars to an out-of-compliance nonprofit now embroiled in a fraud scandal involving former Orange County Supervisor Andrew Do. Simmering left after less than two weeks on the job, following questions about her history in Orange County.

LAHSA officials have removed the agency’s list of leaders and organization chart from its website. For at least two weeks, those pages have been replaced with a graphic labeled “under construction.”

The webpage that once showed the LAHSA organization chart has been replaced with a graphic labeled "Under Construction." The graphic remained on the page at the time of publication.

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In response to a request from LAist, Rubenstein provided a copy of the organization’s organization chart, dated Feb. 1. He said the website will be updated soon with the new info. The site was not updated as of Tuesday.

In November, Horvath called for the county to pull its funding from LAHSA after an audit found failures in the agency’s oversight of service providers. The county provides about half of LAHSA’s $875 million annual budget. The Board of Supervisors approved Horvath’s call for county staff to create a plan to have the county manage the spending directly.

Before she left the LAHSA Commission at the end of last month, Horvath planned to schedule a discussion on conflict of interest procedures at an upcoming commission meeting, her spokesperson told LAist.

L.A. City Councilmember Nithya Raman, who chairs the council’s housing and homelessness committee, said in an email to LAist: “At a time when there is a great deal of distrust in government and in the homeless services system, I think it is particularly important to ensure that we avoid even the appearance of a conflict of interest.”

In response to LAist’s reporting, Raman said she contacted Wendy Greuel — L.A.’s former controller and current chair of the LAHSA Commission — who assured Raman that conflict of interest policies would be rigorously enforced to prevent future lapses.

Greuel did not address concerns about the conflict when asked for comment by LAist.

L.A. City Councilmember Monica Rodriguez, a frequent critic of LAHSA’s oversight practices, called Adams Kellum’s signing of contracts with Upward Bound House “really problematic” and “absolutely unacceptable.”

Adams Kellum was hired at a base salary of $430,000 a year — nearly double the pay of elected City Council members and about 42% more than the mayor of L.A.

With such a high salary and responsibility over taxpayer dollars, Rodriguez said, LAHSA’s CEO should be adhering to high ethical standards.

“There need to be greater guardrails,” Rodriguez said.

How to watchdog local government

One of the best things you can do to hold officials accountable is pay attention.

Your city council, board of supervisors, school board and more all hold public meetings that anybody can attend. These are times you can talk to your elected officials directly and hear about the policies they’re voting on that affect your community.

• Read tips on how to get involved.
• The next scheduled LAHSA Commission meeting is Friday, Feb. 28, at 9 a.m. You can check out the commission’s full calendar here. 
• You can find the address to attend in person or attend the meeting virtually here. 
• You can speak to the LAHSA Commission during any agenda item, or at the end of the meeting during general public comments, by submitting a “Request to Speak Form” to the commission’s secretary before the agenda item starts. 
• You can see the list of all  LAHSA commissioners here (note one of the seats is currently vacant). LAHSA’s website for the commission does not include a way to contact the commissioners.

LAist reporter Aaron Schrank contributed to this story.

Gov. Gavin Newsom announced Friday that he has requested a yearlong extension of FEMA funding for L.A. fire survivors. Without the extension, the money will run out July 9.

Now the decision on FEMA support lies with the federal government.

The funds have allowed many survivors to afford temporary housing and other daily needs. Most have yet to return home — 2 in 3 survivors who were living in Altadena or Pacific Palisades at the time of the fires are still displaced, according to the latest survey of more than 2,100 survivors by the nonprofit Department of Angels. Nearly 40% of respondents reported they will either soon run out of temporary housing insurance coverage or have already.

The situation is particularly dire for low-income households: Nearly 80% of respondents making $50,000 or less said they didn’t think they could afford housing for three months once coverage ended.

“The data is clear: This recovery is not over,” said Angela Giacchetti of the Department of Angels at a news conference organized by the Eaton Fire Collaborative in Altadena on Thursday. “If you are a survivor, you know this in your bones. For many families, it has barely begun. People have just begun to stabilize. We need federal support that reflects the scale of this disaster and systems that survivors can actually navigate and access over time.”

FEMA assistance isn’t reaching most survivors

The FEMA Individuals and Households Program can provide funding for survivors of disasters to pay for temporary housing, repair their homes, and respond to other challenges that insurance may not cover. It can also help cover costs if a survivor has no insurance.

Gil Barel has been relying on FEMA funds to pay rent on a small back house for herself and her son for the last year. She said they still haven’t been able to return to their rent-controlled Pasadena apartment because of smoke damage, though she still has to pay the rent for it.

Gil Barel is paying rent on a smoke-damaged apartment in Pasadena while FEMA funds have helped her cut the cost of temporary housing.

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Barel doesn’t know what they’ll do if the FEMA funding runs out.

“ I'm really stressed out,” she said. “I think I'm just kind of trying to put that thought aside and hope for the best.”

But in the 15 months since the fires, most survivors have not accessed FEMA funding. About 60% have received no FEMA assistance beyond the initial $770 payments dispersed in the immediate aftermath of the fires, according to the Department of Angels survey.

Many have faced denials, according to disaster case manager workers with Catholic Charities of L.A. and lawyers with Legal Aid Foundation of L.A.

That’s the situation for Gayle Nicholls-Ali and her husband, Rasheed, who lost their Altadena home of 15 years in the Eaton Fire. They’ve relied on their insurance to pay for a rental in Montrose, but that’s rapidly running out. And because they have that insurance, FEMA has denied further support.

Gayle Nicholls-Ali and her husband, Rasheed, lost their home in the Eaton Fire. They plan to rebuild, but the cost is a major hurdle.

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“A lot of our ALE [Additional Living Expenses insurance] is going to run out before we even are able to get into a house,” Nicholls-Ali said.

Without FEMA or insurance support, they’ll have to find a way to pay rent on top of a mortgage. They also face a big gap in the cost of their rebuild versus how much their insurance covers. Nicholls-Ali said without the help of FEMA and other sources of funding, recovering feels further out of reach.

Funds for long-term recovery still in limbo

FEMA funding extensions have been routine in past disasters, including the 2023 wildfires in Hawaii and after devastating flooding in North Carolina in 2024.

But the agency has faced significant cuts during the second Trump administration, and there are indications that disaster aid is becoming increasingly political. For example, President Donald Trump has approved aid for just 23% of requests from states with a Democratic governor and two Democratic senators, compared to 89% for states that with Republican governors and senators, according to an analysis by Politico.

The state has also not received more than $33 billion for long-term recovery, which can help pay for infrastructure upgrades and repairs, as well as help rebuild schools, parks and homes. That money was requested by state and local leaders shortly after the January 2025 fires and hasn’t been appropriated by Congress.

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

Rabbi Amy Bernstein says the wind-whipped fire in January 2025 that scorched much of the Pacific Palisades, destroying her home and damaging her synagogue, “blew everything open” for the community’s faith leaders.

“If our hearts must break, let them break open,” said the rabbi, who leads Kehillat Israel where 300 families out of 900 lost their homes. “This tragedy has really pushed us closer to one another. We’re working to change the things we need changed.”

Faith leaders both in the Pacific Palisades and in Altadena and Pasadena — devastated by the pair of fires that tore across Southern California — have relied on interfaith and community partnerships to rally congregants who are picking up the pieces 16 months later.

They’ve had to learn on the fly about insurance coverage and local land use regulations while still trying to keep their scattered flock together and raising money for basic needs. Pastors in Altadena have had to fight to protect the rights of Black people who decades ago found pathways to home ownership in that community despite redlining — but now risk losing their land to outside developers who sense an investment opportunity.

And throughout this span, faith leaders have had to cater to the emotional and spiritual needs of their communities and think about how they want to rebuild their sanctuaries that were lost or damaged in the fire. More than a dozen houses of worship burned to the ground or were damaged.

Interfaith relationships have become stronger after the fires

This would have been difficult for faith leaders to handle but for the interfaith relationships that became closer and stronger after the fires, said the Rev. Grace Park, associate pastor at Pacific Palisades Presbyterian Church, which burned down.

Methodists, Presbyterians, Catholics, Jews and yogis have not just found common ground in human suffering and loss, but have learned how to lean on one another in a time of dire need, she said.

“It’s a sense of mutual affection and respect, learning from each other and leaning on one another,” Park said. “We’re sharing the joys and the deep valleys of what it means to lead through a time of tragedy.”

Brother Satyananda, a senior monk at the Self Realization Fellowship, lost his living quarters and belongings in the fire. Much of the campus, started by Paramahamsa Yogananda who brought ancient spiritual practices from India to the West, fortunately survived the fire.

Satyananda recalls one day when Bernstein picked up on his sadness and offered him “motherly compassion.”

“We share the same profession where we’re tuned to people in need,” he said. “Now, our relationship has changed because we’re tuning into each other. There’s a greater level of trust.”

Pastor BJ King, who leads LoveLand LifeCenter, worked with the late Rev. Cecil B. Murray to heal communities and build interfaith coalitions after the 1992 Los Angeles riots.

“Back then, there was a choice whether or not to get involved,” he said. “But with these fires, there is no choice. It has affected everybody.”

Pastors have had to acquire new skills

King’s congregation has switched to online services after their leased church building in Altadena suffered smoke damage. Twelve families lost their homes. In addition to helping meet people’s basic needs, King has created a program organizing gatherings to connect therapists with those in need of mental health.

“Many people didn’t even know they needed that,” he said.

One of the most powerful roles faith leaders have played after the fire is to “continue to talk with power, people in charge,” said Pastor Jonathan DeCuir, who leads Victory Bible Church in Pasadena. He and others in the region have continued to meet with local officials and even conferred with Gov. Gavin Newsom to keep things moving for their communities.

DeCuir chairs the board of a nonprofit called Legacy Land Project, which provides financial aid, legal support and guidance on building contractors, as well as medical care to those affected by the fires.

The disaster has brought a level of camaraderie that DeCuir says he has never seen among the region’s clergy.

“Denominational lines have been crossed,” he said. “Even if we have different theological stances or approaches to ministry, we are all now looking at how to care for our people and community. If we don’t come together, Altadena will never ever be the same. The people won’t be there anymore. That, to me, is terrifying.”

While a church is more than a building, physical churches do appear as “beacons of hope” in traumatized communities, said Pastor Mayra Macedo-Nolan, executive director of Clergy Community Coalition in Pasadena. Her group has lobbied for houses of worship to be prioritized on the same footing as businesses in the rebuilding plan.

“When people start seeing churches rebuilding in Altadena, they’re going to feel like it’s going to be OK because the churches are coming back,” she said.

Reimagining a purposeful future

Pastor Jonathan Lewis, fourth from right, holds a groundbreaking service at the site of the burned Fountain of Life Nazarene Church to mark the beginning of its rebuilding in Altadena, Calif., April 26, 2026.

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Members of the congregation join in prayer during the groundbreaking ceremony at the site of the burned Fountain of Life Nazarene Church, marking the beginning of its rebuilding, April 26, 2026, in Altadena, Calif.

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Pastor Jonathan Lewis poses for a photo with his congregation during a groundbreaking service at the site of the burned Fountain of Life Nazarene Church, marking the beginning of its rebuilding, April 26, 2026, in Altadena, Calif.

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On April 26, the Altadena Fountain of Life Church broke ground to build a new sanctuary after their house of worship, which had stood for over three decades, was destroyed in the fire. Pastor Jonathan Lewis, who ministers to about 75, hopes the church will be ready in time for Easter next year.

“It’ll be a Resurrection Sunday for our church, too,” he said.

Alexis Duncan, who grew up in Altadena attending that church, came to the groundbreaking with her 6-year-old daughter. She lost both her home and her church building.

“It means everything to me that they’re rebuilding because I want the church to be there for my daughter as she grows up,” she said. “This new beginning gives me and my family hope and the encouragement to come back.”

Some churches like Altadena Community Church, a United Church of Christ congregation, are pausing to rethink their future purpose. The Rev. Michael Lewis, who took over in February after the previous pastor retired, said the congregation is looking into several possibilities for the one-acre lot, including affordable housing.

“We know that a church is not intended to be a landlord and the pastor is no property manager,” he said. “But, we’re also thinking about who is able to return to Altadena? How will this rich, economically diverse community that was scattered by the fire come back?”

The church has been around since the 1940s. A haven for actors, poets and musicians, the former sanctuary also served as a vibrant performance space. Lewis said they hope to incorporate a performance stage into the new facility.

“It’ll look different from what we had before,” he said. “Once we figure out how to build community, we can decide what physical structures will help us support that community.”

As for Kehillat Israel, on May 15, members will carry their Torah scrolls back to their sanctuary, marking one of the first returns by a house of worship to the Palisades since the disaster.

Judaism has had “a long history of starting over,” Bernstein said.

“It’s encoded in our cultural approach to the world, that there are things that can always be taken away from you,” she said. “But what you become can never get taken away.”

The sky above Los Angeles State Historic Park in Chinatown will be dotted with color Saturday with the annual Kite Festival.

The festival had its beginnings as a joyful protest in 2021, back when a proposal for a Dodger Stadium gondola included cutting through the airspace above the park. Organizers say last year’s Kite Festival drew a crowd of about 7,000.

“The Kite Festival, [for] some people, it’s their favorite day in Los Angeles,” said Sue Bell Yank, executive director of Clockshop, the nonprofit arts org that runs the festival. “It’s the time when they really feel connected to their city. More so than any other time.”

This year’s programming includes a kite-making station where you can build your own flying art for a donation of $5, along with art workshops and the unveiling of a large floating, inflatable sculpture by Guatemalan kite artist Francisco Ramos.

An international team of disease detectives is now racing to connect with the more than two dozen passengers who disembarked the MV Honius cruise ship on the Atlantic island of St. Helena before the hantavirus outbreak was identified.

These individuals have flown across the world, including to the United States.

The risk of further spread of this virus is low since it requires close and prolonged contact with an infected individual — and those infected seem to transmit the virus for only a brief period of time. But public health officials want to make sure the outbreak is contained.

Here's how authorities are using the practice of contact tracing to contain the outbreak and keep the hantavirus from spreading.

Contact tracing 101

The concept of modern contact tracing dates to the 1930s and was part of an effort to stop the spread of syphilis. It involves locating the close contacts of anyone who may have been infected. "By identifying people who are at risk of infection," says Preeti Malani, an infectious disease physician at the University of Michigan, "you try to get ahead when people don't have symptoms yet with the goal of preventing the infection from continuing to propagate."

This is a well-tested approach for containing an infectious disease. "It's the oldest tool in the epidemiologic toolbox," explains Malani. "We thought about this a lot early in the pandemic with COVID. But we also do contact tracing for sexually transmitted infections, for things like meningitis and even measles."

Malani likens contact tracing to monitoring ripples in a pond, "trying to prevent those outer rings from propagating by isolating individuals and by identifying individuals who might be at risk of infection."

The idea that "there's a time period where people don't have symptoms but could be harboring the virus, that's what contact tracing helps identify," says Malani.

It starts by pinpointing someone with an infection or suspected infection of the disease in question — in this case, hantavirus. Epidemiologists then look to see with whom they've recently had close contact since these individuals are more likely to have been infected.

This hunt for those with the greatest probability of infection is important. "Otherwise, it becomes an impossible web to contain because everyone is connected to everyone," says Boghuma Titanji, an infectious diseases doctor at Emory University. "So you have to stratify by high, intermediate and low-risk contacts."

The next step involves public health agencies ordering precautions for those who are infected or who may be infected but aren't showing symptoms yet. Such measures may include quarantine, so that an individual doesn't come into contact with even more people — who may then become infected.

One challenge that hantavirus presents is that its incubation period can last up to several weeks. In other words, "people take a long time to become symptomatic after they've been exposed," says Titanji. "Some of these primary contacts would have to be monitoring themselves for symptoms for up to 45 days to be at the tail end of that very long incubation period."

Aboard and ashore

The work isn't high-tech but it is painstaking, requiring officials to reconstruct the many interactions someone may have had over days or weeks.

Onboard the cruise ship, "you might have an individual who is a source of an infection," says Titanji, laying out a hypothetical example. "And then they were sitting at a dinner table with one individual who then goes back to their cabin and shares a bed with their partner who has a conversation with someone else on the deck."

Once someone disembarks the ship, the number of potential interactions can grow quite quickly. This is why officials were concerned when a KLM flight attendant fell ill after being aboard a flight with one of the infected cruise ship passengers. Fortunately, the flight attendant ultimately tested negative for hantavirus.

Titanji is heartened by what she's seen playing out so far. "It seems like the international collaborative effort has been really robust and the mechanisms for containment are in place and underway," she says.

Public health officials argue that contact tracing is a powerful approach that will reduce further spread. "We can break this chain of transmission," said Abdi Mahmoud, the director of the World Health Organization's health emergency alert and response efforts, at a press conference on Thursday.

He has good reason to be confident. Contact tracing was vital during the fight against COVID-19 and helped end the Ebola crisis in Liberia, containing the epidemic there more than a decade ago. Some of the contact tracing even involved hours-long hikes through the jungle to a remote village.

Authorities are hoping for similar success with this hantavirus outbreak.
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