The Brief

Khloe Rios-Wyatt broke new ground nearly five years ago when she co-founded Alianza Translatinx, the first trans-led organization in Orange County that's dedicated to helping transgender people with resources relating to housing, mental health support, immigration and other services.

Recently, LAist asked her to tell us about the organization, its goals, and a report it released this summer on the current challenges facing the LGBTQIA+ community in Orange County, including housing injustice.

How it all began

Even at the age of 5, Khloe Rios-Wyatt knew that she didn’t identify with the gender she was assigned at birth and would tell her parents she was a girl. The response? Love and acceptance.

That love and acceptance helped her become the first person in her family to head off to college, Cal State Fullerton

She said she suffered some bullying from classmates there, but it wasn’t until entering the workforce that she realized how hard life could be for someone who is transgender. Four months after Rios-Wyatt started working at a marketing agency in Newport Beach, she says she lost the job when her employer cited discrepancies in her employment documentation compared to her driver’s license, Social Security and immigration documents — which all carried her dead name. To compound matters, she was also a Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) permit holder at the time. To change all these documents and address her immigration status would have required the costly services of an attorney.

When she hit rock bottom

Rios-Wyatt says she plummeted into depression. Unemployed, she didn’t know where to turn to for help. Her mission now is to make sure others have a support system for some of the challenges she faced.

“At the time I was not informed,” she said. “I didn't have the knowledge that I have now.”

Rios-Wyatt would eventually begin working at a nonprofit in Los Angeles with other trans people, an experience that made her realize she was not the only one confronted with barriers to finding work, especially when immigration issues are also involved. And so, at the beginning of the pandemic, she began the grassroots effort to co-found Alianza Translatinx, the first trans-led organization in Orange County.

A mission is born

Alianza — “alliance” in Spanish — acts as a hub connecting people in Orange County's trans community with resources relating to housing, mental health support, immigration assistance and other services.

“I just wanted to be of more value going into my community and educating them, helping them update their documents, and making sure that they didn't go through the same thing that I went through,” Rios-Wyatt said.

Part of that mission is figuring out what people need.

That led to a first-of-its-kind reports by Alianza Translatinx, which made headlines with its survey of the trans community revealing the unique challenges they face and the lack of targeted resources. The results in the report titled "We Deserve Housing Justice" revealed that 44% of respondents in Orange County said they struggled to make a living, earning less than $10,000 annually. And over 60% of them said they had experienced discrimination based on their gender.

This discrimination, they say, is their biggest barrier to higher paying jobs, which makes it harder to find secure housing.

“We want this report to help inform other housing providers in the area how to better provide services, housing services for trans people and really improve the way that services are currently being delivered to transgender, gender non-conforming and intersex people in Orange County,” Rios-Wyatt said.

She added that Alianza Translatinx exists to help people get out of that cycle of despair. One of those who says she has been helped is Lucia Marlene Garcia.

Helping with the basics — such as housing

Garcia arrived from Tijuana two years ago, crossing the border with several friends. She eventually came to Santa Ana, staying at a hotel as she tried to find employment and housing.

She found part-time work at beauty salons and cleaning houses, but she's had trouble finding a full-time job, and only recently got her work visa. Housing has been an even bigger problem. Garcia said she visited around 60 apartments and homes over seven months, searching for an affordable room to rent so she could leave the hotel behind. (She was paying $2,000 a month there, and had to eat out for all of her meals.)

Garcia's lack of credit and job history have been major obstacles to finding a place. But sometimes, she said, the rental seemed like a done deal until she showed up in person. In one case, Garcia went to a house to meet a woman who had advertised a room for rent.

"When I got there, just seeing me and that I was a trans woman, she told me, 'No, I can't rent my room to you because I have little kids.' I mean, what does that have to do with anything?" Garcia recalled. "I felt very offended and very judged."

She is now staying with a friend, and working on becoming a licensed hair stylist while learning English and "getting a little more settled."

Alianza Translatinx connected Garcia with the Civic Center Barrio Housing Corp., which is helping Garcia in her search for permanent housing of her own. Garcia said she also relies on the Civic Center Barrio's food bank.

How services have grown

Alianza Translatinx initially started by preparing and then distributing hot meals to community members during the pandemic, Rios-Wyatt said. But people would also reach out with questions about name changes and where they could find information about medical care and hormone replacement therapy.

“It just became this community chain of passing on information and then more and more people started coming to us to ask for more resources,” Rios-Wyatt said.

Now, the organization works like a hub connecting community members with other organizations in Orange County. Alianza recently partnered with UC Irvine Health to provide medical services, such as hormone replacement therapy and laser hair removal. They have also created partnerships with organizations like CalOptima Health and local nonprofits to provide housing assistance, rental stipends and transportation reimbursements.

Danielle Cameron, a director at CalOptima Health, said Alianza provides "important advocacy for and support to Orange County’s Transgender, gender-diverse and intersex (TGI) community" and noted that "the TGI community faces structural barriers and discrimination when seeking essential health care, housing and accommodations."

"We are in the early stages of our partnership and are committed to the work ahead," Cameron added.

The jobs and housing challenge

In the wake of the survey responses, Rios-Wyatt created a housing case management program at Alianza Translatinx. It helps clients with services like trauma-informed housing management, where an individual’s experience is centered in case management, rent assistance vouchers and mental health access.

“We're speaking to politicians, to community leaders, at the state level and at the local level, to also include trans people in workforce development, to foster leadership and to invest in trans leadership,” Rios-Wyatt said. “We want this report to help inform other housing providers in the area how to better provide services, housing services for trans people and really improve the way that services are currently being delivered to transgender, gender nonconforming and intersex people in Orange County."

The key to making a difference

Rios-Wyatt may be at the helm of the organization, but she says its success is a shared victory.

"We just did the work and everything else just came to be what it is now. It has been a team effort. It hasn't just been me," Rios-Wyatt said. "This was built under my leadership, but I recognize that this was a team effort... Alianza Translatinx has become a cornerstone in the community because it's based in community."

For many Los Angeles college students, public transit is often the cheapest and sometimes the only way to get to campus as gas and other costs rise. But using buses and trains can come with a price beyond the fare.

Metro offers free passes for students at participating K-12 schools and community colleges, while some universities offer discounted transit passes for their students. However, college students who rely on transit have to leave for class hours early to avoid being late, weigh safety concerns, stretch already tight budgets and miss out on college life, students told CalMatters.

Late buses, early alarms

For some students, using transit means getting ready and leaving long before class starts. Makeda Webb wakes up at 6 a.m. in her apartment in Willowbrook, more than five hours before her first class at Cal State Dominguez Hills, less than 5 miles away in Carson.

On most mornings, the psychology major competes with her brother and grandfather, who has dementia, for their one shared bathroom. Even though her earliest class starts at 11:30 a.m., Webb leaves home by 8:30 a.m. because her commute usually takes 40 minutes and unreliable buses have made her late before. Some professors have even threatened to drop her from their classes if she kept arriving late, so she doesn't take any risks.

"The bus is constantly late or breaking down," Webb said. "You have to wait another hour for the next bus. … (It) makes me late for school, so I have to leave extremely early to make sure I'm on time."

She doesn't have a car, so despite delays, taking the bus is cheaper for her than paying for gas and other driving costs. Her university offers Metro U-Pass, which allows participating university students to take unlimited bus and train rides for the semester for a flat fee. For spring 2026, the pass cost $67.50.

Her commute gets worse at the end of the day. When Webb takes the bus in the evening after class and extracurriculars, frequent stops and unruly passengers stretch the trip to close to an hour.

"Even though I only live (half an hour) away by bus, it takes double that to get there because the bus driver has to stop the bus or … something stupid is going on, like chaos, which makes it take forever," Webb said.

Webb walks home at night after getting off the bus at a stop near her home. “It’s not always enjoyable, especially with the type of people that get on the bus. We have a lot of drug addicts, we have a lot of people who do crazy types of stuff on the bus,” she said.

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For women, the train comes with risks 

Victoria Imo, a graduate student studying social work at the University of Southern California, has a car but often takes the Metro A Line, transferring to the E Line to get to campus. She uses her U-Pass to avoid the high cost of gas and parking.

Imo's U-Pass is covered by USC's mandatory transportation fee, which costs $146 for the spring semester. That is cheaper than filling her tank multiple times, which she said can cost up to $60 each time, or buying a parking permit, which can cost up to $585 per semester before added fees.

But saving money means she has to take extra precautions. Because of safety concerns on the train, Imo thinks carefully about where she sits, often near other women, and avoids using her iPad or laptop, opting to read instead. She wears a mask and sometimes headphones without music to avoid unwanted interactions.

In the past, Imo carried pepper spray and a Taser – the latter of which she previously set off to deter an unruly man who was "yelling behind me while I was walking up the stairs," she said. She activated the Taser so it crackled really loudly while she walked to her car.

Metro contracts with the Los Angeles Police Department and Los Angeles Sheriff's Department for law enforcement across its systems. The agency also has transit ambassadors to complement officers, report issues and connect passengers with resources. Still, Imo said she has not reported any safety concerns because she's so used to them.

"I haven't gone out of my way to give any feedback, because at this point, I feel like this is just what the train system is," Imo said. "It seems like everyone's used to it."

Imo walks down the stairs at the Sierra Madre Metro Station in Pasadena to catch a train to campus.

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Gina Medrano, a psychology student at Santa Monica College, described similar concerns. She has her own car, but gas prices have pushed her to use her GoPass to take the train from the Atlantic Station in East Los Angeles to her school.

She carries pepper spray, avoids wearing headphones and switches train cars if anyone makes her feel uncomfortable. After witnessing a near-fatal incident, Medrano said boarding a Metro train makes her feel uneasy.

"This lady started hitting a man on the train," she said. "After she kicked the door of the train while it was running … she jumped out of the train … and it was right in front of me. I had to call my mom to come pick me up, because I just couldn't handle what I'd just seen."

Medrano said the incident was one of several disturbing things she's seen on the train. She regularly sees things that make her question her safety and wonder why there isn't more enforcement.

"It's kind of normal to see needles and unsightly things on the train," she said. "There's not really a lot of enforcement or safety. I don't really feel safe on it."

For some, police presence sets off alarms

Zak Nirenberg, an electrical construction and maintenance major at Los Angeles Trade-Technical College, said their biggest safety concern is not other Metro riders, but Los Angeles Police Department officers.

"They're intimidating," Nirenberg said. "Most of the time they're on the (train), they're looking for someone to harass or actively harassing someone."

Zak Nirenberg rides the Metro train from Grand/LATTC Station in Los Angeles to Pico Station in downtown Los Angeles on April 30, 2026. They said their biggest safety concern is not other Metro riders but Los Angeles Police Department officers.

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Norma Eisenman, a spokesperson for the LAPD, declined to comment on Nirenberg and others' concerns about officers' presence during fare inspections. The department directed CalMatters to file public records requests for documents about LAPD protocols.

Metro says safety is improving

Metro says it's making progress on safety, pointing to recent declines in violent crime and nonviolent offenses. The agency attributed those declines to increased visible uniformed personnel, fare enforcement and partnerships with behavioral health organizations on its transit system.

In a February Metro media release, Maya Pogoda, a spokesperson for the agency, wrote that violent crime fell 6.7% in 2025 from the year before. She added that crimes involving trespassing, narcotics and weapons decreased 33%.

Metro also announced the Department of Public Safety Dashboard, which publishes safety and security data submitted by law enforcement agencies and shows a more complicated history. According to the dashboard, after Metro resumed bus fare collection following a pandemic pause, trespassing reports, which include fare evasion, rose nearly 1,200%, from 126 in 2022 to 1,635 in 2023. In 2024, the number more than doubled to about 4,500.

Arrests also rose sharply, with LAPD and sheriff's department arrests increasing by 81% in 2023 to about 5,000, then nearly doubling to about 10,000 in 2024. Since 2020, the top two crime types reported on Metro have been trespassing and battery.

Pogoda wrote that the agency is trying to address safety through a mix of law enforcement and public services aimed at addressing homelessness, addiction and untreated mental illness. These efforts will all be coordinated through Metro’s new Department of Public Safety.

Los Angeles Police Department officers conduct fare inspections on a Metro train at Grand/LATTC Station in Los Angeles on April 30, 2026. According to Metro, officers conducted more than 116,000 train boardings and about 500,000 TAP card inspections in 2025 alone.

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Student passes help, but gaps remain

Even Metro programs meant to make public transit more affordable for students don’t remove every cost barrier. For some, the upfront cost of even a discounted pass can still be out of reach.

Stephanie Verdugo, a sociology major at Cal State LA, lives in on-campus housing and relies on Metro buses to run errands and, previously, to get to work. She said her university sells a U-Pass to students for about $100 a semester, but even as a frequent transit rider, Verdugo said she couldn't afford the upfront cost.

"I always had a very tight budget … so I could never actually buy (the U-Pass)," she said. "I would just have to pay the regular way."

Still, even while paying Metro's regular $1.75 fare for bus or train rides, Verdugo said using public transit has saved her money. That is partly because the agency's fare-capping system limits how much regular fare riders can spend to no more than $5 each day and $18 each week before rides are free.

"I don't pay a lot of money considering how much I travel on the bus," Verdugo said. "As a person who was traveling every single day for a month straight, I only spent like a maximum of $80, which, to me, is really good."

For Nirenberg, the Los Angeles Trade-Technical College student, the GoPass saves them a lot of money on gas and parking.

"(It's) not just for school, but for life in general. I don't pay for parking anywhere," they said. "I don't have to worry about finding parking. It's fantastic."

‘I've never been to a college party’ — when transit derails social life

Beyond getting to class, transit can also shape how much of college life students get to experience. Julian Levy, a political science student at Occidental College, lives in on-campus housing and relies on public transit to visit his family and get around Los Angeles. Without a car, Levy said, participating in college life off campus means planning around transit schedules, deciding whether a trip is worth the time and often leaving early to get back on time.

"I remember just feeling so frustrated … just because I didn't have a car," Levy said. "I had to leave early from (a friend's birthday party) because of the time I would have to spend on the much slower public transit system."

One trip to an Occidental soccer game at Chapman University in Orange made Levy reconsider taking transit to away games. He had taken Metro and Metrolink to get there without any issues, but after the game, one of the few trains back was canceled. A second train eventually came, but only after Levy waited about two and a half hours on the platform. He ended up getting back to campus after midnight.

"I remember thinking after that, 'Do I really want to rely on public transit?'" Levy said. "I've always been able to get where I've needed to go, but I've definitely reconsidered whether something is worth the risk of getting stranded somewhere."

For many students CalMatters spoke to, public transit can be unpredictable, crowded and unsafe. Still, it remains the most affordable, and sometimes the only, way for students to reach campus and make attending college possible at all.

"I'm a low-income student, I've never been to a college party. … I don't have the money, I don't have the time," said Webb, the Cal State Dominguez Hills student. "I have not gotten the full (college experience), but I'm still thankful, though. At least there's an option."

Martin Romero is a contributor with the College Journalism Network, a collaboration between CalMatters and student journalists from across California. CalMatters higher education coverage is supported by a grant from the College Futures Foundation.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.

After months of pushing back on the Trump administration’s attempt to stop youth gender-affirming care nationally, California is establishing its own safety net for vulnerable patients and families.

California approved $26 million in one-time funding aimed at protecting access to health care for transgender youth in the state’s budget package for its 2026-27 fiscal year. It also includes $30 million earmarked for providers of reproductive and transition-related care.

This was welcome news to many LGBTQ+ advocates, families with trans youth, and health care providers. Over the last year, many California families with trans youth have either seen their providers stop youth gender-affirming care or announce plans to do so.

About the funding

The one-time fund will be distributed to health care providers across the state through targeted grants. The money will give providers “meaningful resources” to continue and expand their gender-affirming care offerings, according to TransFamily Support Services, one of the organizations that lobbied for the bill.

Advocacy organizations say the fund will expand the network of trans youth health care providers and insulate the provider network from federal funding cuts.

Meanwhile, the $30 million fund for uncompensated care will help providers deal with funding gaps due to cuts to Medi-Cal and other federal programs.

Newsom’s approval followed months of back-and-forth as California looked to balance its finances after years of shortfalls. Newsom’s initial version of the budget did not include the gender-affirming care fund. The legislature then added it back, and it stayed in the final version.

The budget also includes other provisions aimed at helping California’s struggling health care industry, like delaying cuts to Medi-Cal. Newsom has also approved similar funds to protect reproductive health care and abortion access this year.

The response

Trans advocacy organizations celebrated the news this week.

“This historic investment will help keep care accessible, support the providers doing this lifesaving work, and remind trans young people that California will not abandon them,” Kathy Moehlig, TransFamily Support Services’ director, said in a statement.

Many advocates highlighted the importance of this fund during a critical moment for trans health care.

“We must continue to work together to ensure the well-being, health, and autonomy of all people in our state,” Bamby Salcedo, president and CEO of the L.A.- based TransLatin@ Coalition, said in a statement.

The current threats

As the Trump administration continues to restrict trans youth health care nationally, hospitals and health care providers are seeing the federal government try a new tactic to obtain records of trans youth patients: criminal subpoenas.

“It's a worrying tactic that indicates that there might be future efforts to try to criminalize trans healthcare,” said attorney Megan Noor of Transgender Law Center.

In California, Stanford Children’s Hospital received one such subpoena, which led patient families to sue the federal government. Attorney General Rob Bonta was one of 19 attorneys general who filed an amicus brief supporting the lawsuit, which Noor said can be part of a “symbiotic relationship” between states fighting against federal policy and the people affected by drastic policy shifts coming from Washington, D.C.

A round of administrative subpoenas issued by the Department of Justice last year was largely blocked.

Meanwhile, Rady Children’s Health, the parent company of Children’s Hospital of Orange County and Rady Children’s Hospital in San Diego, will continue offering gender-affirming care to youth under 19 at least until January while a lawsuit filed by California Attorney General Rob Bonta plays out.

More than a week after fire broke out in a cold storage warehouse in Boyle Heights, the Los Angeles Fire Department announced it had finally stopped burning. But neighborhood residents whose homes were enveloped in smoke for days may feel the health and environmental effects of the blaze for weeks or even months.

The fire sent thick plumes of black smoke into the air from Downtown Los Angeles to the San Gabriel Valley. In Boyle Heights, residents — some who live just across the street from the block-long warehouse — told Capital & Main that they were struggling to breathe and access basic assistance such as home air purifiers.

In an email to Capital & Main, the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health said that hospital emergency room monitoring data showed an increase following the fire in certain types of visits by people who lived within 10 miles of the warehouse. Visits in which smoke inhalation or the warehouse fire were mentioned in the week after it sparked were three times higher compared with the previous two weeks. The number of visits for throat pain were nearly twice as high on June 21 compared to normal levels.

The Boyle Heights warehouse was built less than a decade ago, but residents had little understanding of what was behind its walls or what risks it could pose. That’s not unusual in this dominantly Latino community and many others like it in Southern California where working-class residents live in close proximity to rail lines, factories, auto shops, rendering plants and many other pollution hazards.

The nearly 500,000-square-foot warehouse is operated by Michigan-based Lineage Inc., the largest cold storage firm in the world and a company with a record of dozens of health and safety and environmental violations. The cause of the fire is still unknown, said LAFD spokesperson Jamie Stewart, but the company believes it started on the warehouse roof as workers from another company serviced rooftop solar panels. That company, Pearce Services, confirmed that four of its workers were on site the day the fire started.

A runoff stream from firefighting efforts flows along Union Pacific Avenue on June 22.

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Five days after the fire erupted, Juan Juarez and neighbor Francisco Carriel stood in their yards speaking over a cinderblock and iron fence. Their homes on La Puerta Street, with cement stucco walls painted white, were awash in relentless waves of toxic haze. Less than a block away, a brown stream of runoff and a row of twisted metal panels and charred foam piled up as firefighters used excavators to pull apart the warehouse and spray water into it.

“Está de la chingada” — Spanish for “it’s fucked up” — they both said nearly in unison as a reporter approached. Pulling his cartoon character mask under his chin, Juarez explained that several of his children and nephews were in his house, sweltering and without access to air conditioning.

A few houses down the street, resident Wendy Ramirez said she sent her two children, who both have asthma, to stay elsewhere. Since the fire began, she had experienced stomach pains and diarrhea, which she said her doctor blamed on the smoke.

“For them to say it’s not toxic, it’s such a lie, it’s such a lie,” Ramirez said, referring to a widely reported statement from the South Coast Air Quality Management District that particulate matter readings in the smoke were “generally near” normal levels.

Wendy Ramirez, a resident of the Boyle Heights neighborhood in Los Angeles.

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The fire has highlighted the environmental and health hazards of the rapidly expanding cold storage industry, which have largely flown under the public radar. Most cold storage warehouses use anhydrous ammonia for refrigeration, which can be fatal if inhaled. The warehouses are insulated with thick layers of combustible foam that contain the potentially carcinogenic material polyisocyanurate. They also store huge quantities of highly flammable plastic-wrapped food products.

The blaze also brought immediate attention to Lineage, the world’s dominant cold storage company, with more than 500 warehouses in 18 countries in North America, Europe, Asia and Oceania. California — with 42 Lineage warehouses — is home to more of the company’s warehouse space than any other state or foreign country except New Zealand. In its statement on the fire, Lineage highlighted the strategic importance of its Boyle Heights facility because of its proximity to the Port of Long Beach and its access to millions of people in Southern California.

According to company documents, lawsuits and other records, Lineage — which operates as a real estate investment trust — has expanded rapidly over the last decade as demand for cold storage has increased. The company has a history of environmental and health violations. Lineage did not immediately respond to Capital & Main’s emails inquiring about its record of citations issued by the Environmental Protection Agency and the Department of Labor’s Occupational Safety and Health Administration.

In Boyle Heights, determining what burned, and what kinds of particle pollution fouled the air for days, will take weeks as the fire department and city and county agencies investigate, officials said.

The harm for residents could be severe, said Rima Habre, an epidemiologist at the University of Southern California. Short-term consequences for those nearest to the warehouse could be asthma and even heart attacks, but other effects will take time to surface. Much of it has to do with what’s in the smoke, which is hard to trace retroactively.

“The larger problem is when these things happen, they’re so dependent on exactly where the smoke is going,” Habre said, adding that heavy metals and industrial chemicals are likely part of the atmospheric mix.

Firefighters walk through smoke alongside the burning Lineage cold storage warehouse.

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Lineage said it’s assisting with firefighting efforts and has contributed $2 million to the California Community Foundation to assist affected communities. It has also launched a damage control effort with the help of a prominent L.A.-based lobbying firm.

Lineage was founded in 2008 by former investment bankers Adam Forste and Kevin Marchetti, who began their careers at Morgan Stanley, where Forste specialized in mergers and acquisitions.

Lineage, then known as Lineage Logistics, began with the purchase of a single Seattle warehouse in 2008. Since then, Lineage has acquired dozens of regional cold storage companies and added hundreds of warehouses that now store and distribute 400 billion pounds of food a year.

Forste and Marchetti took the company public in 2024 with the largest initial public offering that year, raising more than $4 billion. Currently the partners appear on the Forbes billionaires’ list, each with an estimated net worth of $2.1 billion. The company also established a nonprofit, Lineage Foundation for Good, which distributed $8 million in charitable grants in 2024, the last year for which online IRS records are available.

Los Angeles Fire Department spokesperson Mario Guillen told Capital & Main that both Lineage, which runs the cold storage warehouse, and the warehouse property owner collaborated to remove potentially hazardous ammonia from the building and obtain water cannons and water dropping helicopters. Chill Build LLC is listed as the owner of the warehouse property, according to public records. Lineage didn’t answer Capital & Main’s emailed questions about the amount of money it spent on the firefighting effort.

Lineage has also invested in damage control.

Two days after the fire erupted, Lineage hired a lobbying firm with deep ties to Los Angeles City Hall for “crisis communications and work related to the impact of facility fire.” M Strategic Communications was engaged to lobby various city officials including the mayor, as well as the Department of Building and Safety and the Los Angeles Fire Department, on behalf of Lineage through the rest of the year.

Smoke billows from the Lineage cold storage warehouse.

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Last year Lineage also hired Veritas Public Affairs to lobby city officials for a “remedy related to a rapid shutoff device alternative.” Rapid shutdown devices are safety mechanisms designed to protect firefighters from high-voltage electricity when they access roofs with solar panels during fires or other emergencies. Veritas didn’t specify which city agency it was hired to lobby. Reached by phone, Lineage’s Chris Thurston, who is listed on the lobbying disclosure form, said, “I can’t comment on that.”

The company has also maintained an active lobbying presence on the federal level. Lineage spent $60,000 in 2025 to lobby Congress on proposed tax increases for U.S. companies that would be levied by other countries’ governments.

The fire could damage the company’s reputation, but it’s unclear whether it will affect its bottom line.

In 2024, a Lineage cold storage warehouse in Benton County, Washington, burned for 60 days before it was demolished. The following year, the company reported in its annual report to the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission that the fire produced a net gain of $107 million in 2024 and 2025 from insurance reimbursements, even after accounting for costs, including $29 million in clean-up costs.

However, earlier this year in the rural communities surrounding the Benton County warehouse, more than 100 people filed lawsuits alleging their health and the environment was damaged as result of negligent actions by Lineage and others in responding to the fire. In one of the lawsuits, residents said runoff from the firefighting effort contained contaminants that seeped into the water supply and the soil. Residents also alleged that they suffered “acute physical symptoms” including “burning eyes, throat irritation, coughing, difficulty breathing, headaches, nausea, dizziness and cognitive defects.”

Federal regulators have found Lineage in violation of dozens of health and safety and environmental regulations in recent years. For example, the company agreed to pay $172,000 to settle with the EPA over Clean Air Act violations at an Altoona, Iowa, facility where it allegedly failed to comply with requirements designed to prevent accidental releases of hazardous substances. In 2020, a contractor at a Statesville, North Carolina, facility was killed and others were injured during an ammonia release.

Armando Millan, a disabled and unhoused resident of Boyle Heights, sits across the street from the Lineage warehouse. A representative for Councilmember Ysabel Jurado reached out to Millan about assistance with evacuation, but he was reluctant to leave his belongings behind.

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In response to the Boyle Heights fire, both Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass and Gov. Gavin Newsom issued emergency declarations to facilitate aid to affected Angelenos and aid in firefighting efforts. A Federal Emergency Management Administration spokesperson wrote in an email that the agency is “monitoring” the situation in Boyle Heights, adding that response to the fire “is being led by local and state authorities.” EPA spokesperson Julia Giarmoleo said the agency is “performing ongoing air monitoring and sampling.”

Councilmember Ysabel Jurado, who represents Boyle Heights, said in a statement that she plans to introduce city council motions calling for the public release of air quality and environmental testing results in English and Spanish, and a report on materials that were present at the facility, including what burned. Noting that Boyle Heights “carries significant environmental burdens,” Jurado said the neighborhood “deserves the same urgency, transparency and protection as any other community in Los Angeles.”

Supervisor Hilda Solis said in an emailed statement that Lineage “must take responsibility for the impacts on affected communities,” including “providing immediate support such as air purifiers, masks, and other essential assistance for residents.” On June 23, the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors approved her motion to investigate the company’s role in the fire.

But so far, little help — from the company or government agencies — has reached Boyle Heights residents.

As smoke inundated his house, Juarez explained that he hasn’t even been able to obtain an air purifier from city officials. He said he tried calling the city, but has been unable to reach anyone. Leaving his home isn’t an option because he fears the house will be burglarized.

“This part of the city is very neglected,” Juarez said. “Like they think, ‘Oh, it’s Boyle Heights. It’s fine. Let them be.’”

This story has been updated to include data about emergency room visits related to the fire compiled by the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health’s Syndromic Surveillance Project.

Research assistance provided by Kani’ya Davis.

All photos by Aaron Cantú.

Copyright 2026 Capital & Main.